


Flowers In Your Rifle

by heckaroni



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Developing Friendships, Domestic Bliss, Even the scary ones are precious, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Maybe a smooch or two!, Mostly teen-rated, Nice Guys Finish First, Our himbo gon learn today, Romantic Friendship, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Some sad bits of course, Trauma Recovery, Very cute Pokemon, but mostly soft, dirty humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 49,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23123788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckaroni/pseuds/heckaroni
Summary: Milo likes two things in life - soft things and delicate things. He claims to have no room for anything (or anyone) else. Yet when a pretty, young Wyndoner moves to Turffield, he makes room.
Relationships: Yarrow | Milo/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 90
Kudos: 114





	1. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flowers in your Rifle comes from the French saying “… et oui, il parts la fleur au fusil”, translating as "he leaves with a flower in his gunbarrel". It implies impending loss of innocence, the blissful ignorance of what lies ahead combined with a purity to do what’s right in a man’s heart.

Milo liked two things in life - soft things and delicate things. It was no wonder he would become a Grass-type trainer and his gym the sole Grass gym in all of Galar. Grass-types were a group of mainly soft, delicate creatures. It’s like Arceus took its time painting and carving every detail into them. Every vein, every wrinkle. It was also no wonder that his flower shop in town was so successful. It wasn’t just his little assistants spreading their Pokémon wisdom onto their flower neighbors. It was Milo being as delicate with them as their godly craftsman. He examined every leaf, petal, and stem and did what he could to encourage them to reach their fullest potential.

His farmer parents were endlessly proud of their boy. Oldest of seven, he not only met their expectations to love fauna and flora to meet supply and demand but also reached even higher heights once he helped put Turffield on the map for something besides the sculptures their ancestors left behind. He was beloved by all in town, a straw hat-donned, baby-faced hero.

Still, they worried about him. He was Milo the Mild but maybe he was too mild around certain subjects. He had no interest in anything but soft, delicate things and his endless schedule of work. Thus, they were still left with no grandchildren from the star of their progeny. Sometimes they questioned if he would ever bring home a friend that was a person. But they hoped it would just be a phase. Hoped.

Milo’s mother came by to her boy’s flower shop to discuss this with him. She told herself to just plant the seed of doubt, not push. Pushing wouldn’t do anyone good and especially not for her sugar-sweet son. But she had a goal to maybe get him to question his life at that point.

She swept a bundle of graying hair behind her ear as she slowly entered the back room of the shop. He was always there before he opened up, giving his displayed flowers a once-over and pep-talk. She also talked to her vegetables. She was the one he probably mimicked as a toddler trying to toddle through life. So she didn’t think that odd. What saddened her was that he was completely alone in there, hunched over the table. That was bad for his back.

“Oh, Daffy, you’re looking so wonderful. I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you.”

His mother leaned her body against the door frame at a near-perfect 75-degree angle. He would be such a good father, she kept on telling herself. Love came so naturally to him.

“Lo,” she called him.

And Milo went pin-straight for a moment. Once the initial surprise settled, he got up and smiled at his mother.

“Heya, Mum.”

“'Ello, dear. I see your flowers are looking beautiful as always.”

“Thank you. How are you?”

“Well. Your father started taking his medication again.”

Milo let out a deep sigh. “Thank goodness. I was so scared when he started saying all of that ‘I’m fine without it’ nonsense.”

“I know, dear. Fortunately, he still thinks I’m his brain… Is no one else in yet?”

“No. Just me.”

“What about Susanna? I thought she was supposed to be coming in early.”

Milo gently tapped the alarm clock sitting on the cupboard near her. Everything he did was purposely gentle.

“She comes in at 6:30. It’s only 6.”

“Right.”

She felt silly. She couldn’t push Susanna on him. He saw her as too much of a coworker. It was too late for that one.

“What about later on? Does anyone close up the shop with you?”

“No no. There’s no need. I only need help while I’m at the gym or in the fields. Closing up is simple enough a task for me to do on my own.”

She hated that he wasn’t one of those dumb gentle giants sometimes. He was sharp as a tack and he knew how to work around a bind.

“Well, what about home?”

“Hm?”

“You live in that cabin all by yourself. Aren’t you worried you’re going to hurt yourself one day?”

“I’m not alone there.” He even laughed as he said that. “You know that.”

“But Pokémon don’t know how to call an ambulance.”

“I can handle—“

“That’s how your Pop almost left us. You know that.”

She didn’t mean to bring that up but she knew she had to. Because that was the real reason she was so worried about him. There needed to be something that he just couldn’t steer away from. He needed an iceberg to hit. And he couldn’t run away from the fact that his father nearly died on the floor in their barn from a sudden kick in the chest from an unruly Mudsdale. And that Mudsdale’s brood did the same to Milo and broke his ribs only a few months afterward.

“Roary didn’t know what to do. We didn’t realize he was dying in there. He couldn’t tell us what was going on. And baby, that heart of his maybe like yours.”

He wasn’t talking. She didn’t like it when he was quiet. He was so, so quiet when he was a child. He only became talkative when he was forced to battle gym challengers for a living. Even then, his social activity was reserved for the gym mostly. She always thought he was suffering in his silence.

She went over, the floorboards wheezing under her dirtied boots, and rubbed the space between his shoulder blades.

“You deserve it.”

“Hm?”

He turned around, eyebrows high and curious.

“Deserve what?”

“A break. Sometimes, a person can be a break. Your daddy is my break. You deserve a break.”

She quickly gave her hugs and kisses and left the shop.

Milo rubbed his calloused hands, noticed it finally.

Was it always so quiet in here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My college is closed up for spring break and the coronavirus panic. This calls for soft boi content! I've been writing this purely because I usually write super dark stuff and I need a break! I hope you all enjoy. It's super dorky and silly and calls back to the days of when I was writing silly fanfiction in high school with a million OCs and Mary Sues without a care in the world. Sometimes, you just gotta be silly!


	2. Pretty Mare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not British. You're about to find out in this chapter LMAO.

Sunlight burned bright in the sky. Cicadas hissed their songs. The grass was green and the wheat yellow. The vegetables planted in the fields were beginning to bear their fruit. The Wooloos had been sheared to keep them from overheating. And the gym was shut up for the remainder of the year. Autumn would begin soon and Milo was finding it easier to smile. Gym season always wore him down. He was a farmer at heart and being away from his fields and flock made him almost homesick.

His schedule for the fall was the schedule he wished he had all the time. Wake up at 5 am, be out by 5:30, get the Wooloos out to graze and the Yappers to yap at them at 5:45, open the flower shop for Susanna at 6, be at the fields by 6:30, work and work until his back hurt, two hours for lunch, back at the back-breaking work, then end everything by 5. It was wonderful. Constantly busy, drowning himself in thoughtless work that helped all of Galar. He was blessed with a kind, loving mind but sometimes his thoughts did get to him. He needed the robotic routine. He craved it.

That late-August day though, he did not.

He usually headed straight to the fields but he remembered what he noticed in his shop. The fields were usually so, _so_ quiet. He could hear two Pikachus have a conversation from miles away. And he suddenly didn’t want to be surrounded by silence.

He decided to take a detour. He’s never late but no one cared about punctuality in Turffield. He headed straight into Cottage Hill.

That’s what his father called the area where most of the residents of their village lived. The houses circumvented the right side of the stadium then took a deep rise uphill until they dwindled into farms and ranches. At the highest point was a sudden dip into woodlands and mountainside. His family resided by the lake at the very edge of the village. Thus, how it got the name Lakeside Ranch. When he was training to be a gym leader, he would run up and down the valley from the ranch to the Pokémon Center twice a day. He was strong but he felt being able to push over seven-hundred pounds wasn’t enough for the League. He had very good memories of Cottage Hill.

Usually, if he stood an arm’s length away from the last window of Mummy’s, Turffield’s best restaurant in his humble opinion, he could see a straight shot of the entire hill. That day, his view was obstructed by a truck.

He usually liked to leave matters such as that alone but it was quiet by Mummy’s that early in the morning. So he pretended to be curious just so he could hear some noise.

A man dressed in all blue was coming off the truck with a box that was too heavy for him to handle by himself. So it certainly wasn’t too heavy for Milo.

Milo headed right over and got the box off his hands.

“Don’t hurt yourself there.”

“Thanks, mate.”

He looked at the hat on the top of Milo’s head, the bandana on his neck and the boots covering his feet. “Oh, you must be the gym leader here.”

He had a Wyndon accent. Not too rare during the League season but it was an oddity during late summertime.

“Y-Yeah. Milo.”

Milo shifted the box to the middle of his right arm, used his left to give the gentleman a handshake. He didn’t notice the man’s eyeballs nearly popping out of his skull at the clear display of strength from the sweetheart-looking chap.

“Rocky. Honored to meet ya.”

“What’s going on here today?”

“Oh, helpin’ ya new neighbor move in.”

Milo’s eyebrows rose.

“A new neighbor.”

“New” was an unusual word on his tongue. Nothing was new in Turffield - especially people. All the clothes were second-hand. All of the traditions as old as time. The buildings, the dirt roads, the everything - old. Not new.

“Yeah. Straight outta Wyndon. Between you and me—“ And Rocky put his hand near his mouth like he was gonna tell Milo a secret. “— She’s peng-a-leng.”

Milo never cared to notice how a woman looked when he was busy. And he was always busy. So he found the comment unusual. He forgot that there were people out there who had the luxury of stopping to smell the roses. Or gawk at girls.

“Oh.” That was all he could say on the matter.

But the mover continued. He proudly put his hands on his hips too. “Pretty as a flowah I tell ya. And sweet as its nectah. She tipped us double already and she plans to tip us even more once we’re done.”

Milo’s mind drifted for a moment. To think that someone was pretty as a flower meant they had to be soft and delicate. He liked soft and delicate. And he didn’t expect a man in the furniture-moving business would be so poetic but no one had expected much from a short introvert like him either. Then he became gym leader of course and he was suddenly a hero to all farmers everywhere.

He kind of wanted to meet her just to see what Rocky meant by that. Because Milo liked flowers. And he wanted to see what flower this new resident looked like.

“Oh. She sounds lovely.”

“She is. You’re the gym leader and all so I’m sure you’re gonna have to meet her. I reckon you snag her if you aren’t shagging a pretty mare already. Every bloke in town’ll fightin' ova ‘er soon enough.”

Milo suddenly really, really wanted to go to the quietest place on the planet. No more noise for him today. Nope, nope, nope.

“Yeah— I’ll get out your hair now. Please don’t strain yourself.”

“Right. Nice to meet ya.”

“Yeah. Same to you.”

He practically ran for the fields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peng: slang used to describe beautiful women by hip folks called roadmen. In this context, it seems the mover is trying too hard to be hip with the youngins.  
> Shagging: ... you know what that means.


	3. Shaggy

Milo let out a big, loud yawn, wiped his face with the trusty towel hanging off his shoulder.

He had gotten so rattled by that mover’s comment that he worked until dusk. He lost track of time because he couldn’t stop thinking about that word.

Shagging.

Mentions of that sort of thing could be so casual? Was he missing out of some inside joke he should know about by his age? His siblings, all younger but far more experienced at that sort of thing, did badger him about being single during every Sunday dinner but they were just poking fun at him. They knew he hadn’t the patience or time to do things like that. Farmwork was arduous. He could barely stay awake long enough to eat the leftovers Mum always sent him home with. And he would wake up before the sun rose to do it all over again. That routine - on top of being a Gym Leader too - did not allow time for activities such as shagging (snogging too if he was forced to remember that was closely related to shagging too). And besides, he took his father’s words on the eve of his rise to League fame and treated them as gospel: don’t fuck this up. He couldn’t mess up this opportunity not just for himself or his family. He had the entirety of Turffield and the neighboring villages to worry about too. Thus, no shagging for him.

At least not until he met someone nice.

He was relieved when he saw the red roof of Turffield’s only Pokémon Center. Once he put his hand on its wall, he was officially halfway home. He almost hugged it that evening. He could hear it cheering for him, telling him he was almost there. He gave it a little meaningful tap - the sort he did with the heads of his Pokemon, little kids in the village, the occasional baby - as a gesture of gratitude. He didn’t have many cheerleaders in his life but he did have this beacon of hope to keep him going.

Out of the corner of his eye, a beam of light danced from one end of the street to the other. Once nightfall came, the only light in the world would be coming either from a house or the glorious moon. That light was usually a gentle glow. That was a sharp beam.

Of course, Milo was immediately curious about what produced said bright light. So he let go of the Pokémon Center and looked down the road. Artificial lights were swinging back and forth all throughout village center, even up the hills.

Goosebumps prickled his skin.

He didn’t like whatever was going on.

Those movers caught sight of him and waved him over with shouts and hops and waving arms. Milo ran right over to them.

“You haven’t seen that new neighbor today, have ya?” Rocky asked him.

“I don’t believe so. Why?”

“Well, she never came back. We’re worried she went somewhere she shouldn’t.”

Milo’s Applin’s Apple bobbed up and down under the skin of his neck. He messed with his lips a little bit.

“What kind of Pokémon are out here at this time of night?” one of the movers wondered, “Can’t be too bad, can it?”

“If she’s in town, loose Yampers and Pikachus. But if she went up over Cottage Hill—“ Milo pointed up towards where the houses rose then dipped beyond the horizon. “— Manetrics, Perrserkers, occasional Liepards. Nasty ones. They get themselves lost in the Wild Area and end up in the forests near the mountain.”

“So they’ll tear her apart.”

He didn’t want to agree. But mentally, he did.

“Does she have any Pokémon on her?”

The men looked at each other. He took that as a good enough answer.

Milo went for one of the Pokéballs on the holsters around his hips. He pressed the center button, made it balloon up. Then he tossed it in the air.

“Come out, Cherrim. I need a favor.”

His Cherrim, her petals and shop closed up for the night already, smiled sleepily at him.

“Use Sunny Day. But like how I taught you. Make a lantern, love.”

She smiled and trilled at him. Cherrim contained the almighty power of the sun under her petals, gave off a soft but bright enough glow for Milo to see their surroundings better. He made a come-hither motion with his hands and she hopped into them. The light made her warmer than usual. He felt like he was carrying a star.

“I’ll find her,” he reassured the movers, “Stay here and relax. You’ve worked hard enough for today.”

“Thanks, lad.”

He took out two more Pokéballs, tossed them in the air.

“Flapple, Appletun, I need your help.”

The two apple Pokémon came out. The Flapple jittered as he came out of his shell. The Appletun let out a big yawn as he stretched like a cat.

“Both of you, follow me and send off weak Dragon Pulses as often as you can. The goal is static shock, not obliteration. You two are going to be the heroes for the night.”

Both of them liked the sound of that. They did as asked, started shooting the thinnest waves of draconic energy throughout the town. The movers yelped, danced a little as they felt one such wave hit their ankles.

* * *

An hour into the search and Cottage Hill was already pitch-black but the valley and lake beyond it were somehow darker than that. Still no sight of her. Some lad joked that maybe the new neighbor didn’t exist. The lad’s sister smacked him on the head for that one.

Nothing eased Milo’s anxiety. He knew the longer she was out there, the sooner she could get hurt or worse. From what the movers were implying, she had no way to defend herself too. All alone out there in what she might think was the middle of nowhere.

Someone needed to find her already.

Milo’s mother stood outside the door to his family home, a shawl covering her to keep the evening chill off her. She scoffed when she caught sight of him.

“You got involved with this nonsense too?” she asked.

“Of course. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t, y’know.”

She nodded. “Right. Your self-righteous father is out there too.”

“And still nothing?”

“Not a sign of her. Really, when will people remember that the boonies are dangerous? Sure, we’re nice folk so there’s no crime up here. But the elements will wring a neck much faster than any petty thief.”

He nodded, sighed. His eyes caught that familiar beginning of wilderness near Lakeside. And he thought and thought and thought.

“Hm. Do you think she’d go into the woods?” he wondered.

That made her snicker. “No one’s that stupid.”

“If no one’s found her yet, I think we have a bonafide jackass on our hands.”

Milo then began his march into the woods - only for his mother to stop him.

“Take the medkit - just in case.”

She went inside the house, looked inside the cupboard near the door, and pulled out the metal box. She held it up with both hands as if she was carrying a bowling ball. He almost wondered if there was anything in it once he got his hands on it though. It was too light for comfort.

“Right. Thank you, mum. I’ll-”

“You look a little different.”

Milo stopped right in his tracks. “Hm?”

She passed the threshold between indoors and out to give her oldest a look-see. “You just look a little different is all. I can’t put my finger on what it is but I can see it.”

“Oh… Is that a good thing?”

“Maybe… Be careful out there. The Perrserkers are already losing it and the clouds are covering the damn thing they’re yowling at.”

He then looked into the sky and let out a big fat sigh. Of course, there was a full moon. Of course.

“Right. I’ve got my mates with me though. It won’t be too bad out there hopefully. See you later, mum.”

Milo made little kissing noises to his Pokémon. The boys perked up, went a little bit ahead into the forest while continuing their Dragon Pulses. Their Trainer followed, hoping to all goodness he was wrong about her being an idiot.

* * *

Milo hadn’t a clue of the time but he knew it was much too late for a lady to be out. His mother would remind his sisters to be home before Lady O’ Clock or else they’d get a talking to. What time that was - he never knew. But it had to be past Lady O’ Clock.

No sign of the neighbor still but no sign of any Pokémon either. He’d expect a ghost or two by now but still, nothing. That made him very uncomfortable - the silence.

Flapple suddenly screeched and yipped, flapped his wings and made little circles in the air. Appletun looked up at Milo, his eyes covered but the expression obvious.

“Take us to her, laddies. Come on.”

Flapple and Appletun turned left and headed through the underbrush. Milo made chase.

They ran and ran until they reached a clearing. Milo didn’t need to keep on running as soon as his boots crunched on wildflowers.

Oh god, he found her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm here to say don't let Milo's silly himbo mind discourage you from doing what you think is right and fun with your body. You wanna sleep around? Do it! Do you have a goal of smooching a million people? Do it! Are you not interested in either and just want to read silly fanfiction? Do it! Autonomy is what you define it for yourself and that definition will definitely change. For Milo, that will change too - quickly LMAO. Spread the love in any way you see fit! (as long as you use protection and wash your hands. pls.)
> 
> Also, Appletun turns to Milo like he's a character on The Office turning to the camera. A very sarcastic, silly baby!


	4. Soft

Milo loved all of Arceus’s divine creations but he would always have a soft spot for the soft and delicate ones. And he developed a soft spot for the newcomer the moment he laid eyes on her almost ethereal form.

It was the moonlight dancing across her that gave her this almost weightlessness. She was like a petal caught in a springtime gale. Spinning and twirling much like how his Cherrim liked to do constantly on a sunny day.

He couldn’t help the sudden feeling one would get when intruding on a skittish creature grazing in a meadow. He was disturbing the order of the world in some way by being there. But his dragons didn’t care for order. No, they were chaotic little things. So when they saw someone who could offer them pets, they were going to trample over anything and everything to get them. So they clawed up flower and grass and dirt and jetted over to the woman.

“Oh, you two are adorable,” she cooed.

He never thought anyone as young as she was could naturally sound like a kindergarten teacher. But her voice took him back to his days playing with blocks and flower Pokémon in the schoolyard. So, so soothing.

The lass crouched down, offered her hands to the cuties to smell. They sniffed and chirped the happiest little noises.

Oh god, they liked her too.

“Hi there,” she greeted them with, “My name is Layla. What’s yours?”

Of course, she had a soft and delicate name too.

Appletun was all over her but Flapple wanted Milo to join the party. He whizzed back to his Trainer, tugged at the collar of his crew neck invitingly.

The lady’s eyes followed the dragon until they met Milo’s. The neighbor silenced, stared at him with big wide eyes. And he stared back with eyes just as large. And he took in a deep breath, held it, then released it when he processed her full beauty.

Alright. Rocky was right. She was drop-dead gorgeous, alright. Folks surely would fight for the city girl’s hand.

“Are these your Pokémon?” City Girl asked suddenly, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pet them.”

What an odd thing to say. Who wouldn’t want to pet a Pokémon, especially any of his cuties?

“It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing ‘round here. I trained them not to jump all over people but they’re thick-skulled.”

That makes her giggle. Giggle.

Milo could write a five-page essay about how hearing her cutesy little giggle made him feel. And he hated writing in any format. He even refused to make grocery lists just because he didn’t want to pick up a pen to do it. But he would sit down and compose a real literary work about how his whole body shivered from head to toe from listening to the world’s most adorable sound. And he made her laugh.  _ He _ did.

“Aw, you two just want to be spoiled, don’t you?” she cooed at them.

She got down on her knees, started giving them a good rub-down. They  _ melted _ . Flapple was even doing that little kick he did when he was really enjoying a belly rub. She was making Milo melt too. She was good with Pokémon on top of being the most beautiful creature he’s had the honor of gawking at.

When Appletun turned to Milo with this easygoing smile, Milo remembered why they were in the middle of the forest after dark. He closed the distance between him and the lady painfully slow. God, oh god, his boots were so heavy tonight.

“Are you my new neighbor? The lady from Wyndon moving to Turffield today?”

“Well, I certainly am a lady from Wyndon moving to Turffield. Turffield is so beautiful though. I can’t be the only lady from Wyndon moving here today.”

Oh. She had a playful side. She got a chuckle out of him. And she complimented his hometown too. Two-in-one with that one.

“Oh, thank goodness. Are you alright?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He took his straw hat off to let his hair and head breathe. Was he catching a cold or something? He felt too warm. Cherrim took it as an opportunity to jump into the hat and use it as a prickly chair. But wouldn’t it feel like a warm toilet seat, he wondered for a moment. Then he remembered she was supposed to be camouflaged as a flower. Warm soil was like nature’s warm toilet seat. She must feel right at home.

Wait. Did the newbie not realize where she was?

“Well… Whatcha doing out here? You’re real far from town.”

City Girl looked like a machine processing some sort of information for a few moments. She was met with several error messages.

“I… don’t know honestly. I wanted some flowers to put into vases and I ended up here somehow.”

She took a cellphone out of her pocket, attempted to turn it on by pressing down with all her might on a button on the side of it. To no avail.

“With a dead phone. And no Pokémon. And no flashlight because my phone was supposed to be my flashlight.”

Oh no. She  _ was _ a jackass.

“You should be careful,” Milo told her in that polite yet stern way he did when he was teaching the village kids a lesson on life or Pokémon, “These woods are dangerous at night. I’ve seen plenty of Pokémon go into these woods and never return. I don’t want to imagine what could happen to a person. And if you want flowers, I run a flower shop near the stadium. Come buy some instead of risking getting hurt out here.”

City Girl looked at her feet. He looked down too. Her bare feet were small and delicate, even her toes. As he looked back up at her, he caught a glimpse of the patterns in the white lace of the dress. So tiny. So detailed. Very, very delicate handiwork.

Wait, why was she barefoot?

“I’m very sorry,” she said.

“Water under the bridge. I’m glad you’re safe more than anything. And this happens to newcomers at least once.”

Just not as stupidly.

Milo turned in the direction he came from and whistled as loud as he could. Three curt blows in succession. Whistles from afar responded back a single blow.

“What was that?” she wondered, of course. All newbies wonder what that “infernal sound” was every sundown.

“Oh, the rest of the search party. You scared—“

“I mean that whistle. That sounded so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve heard anything like it before.”

Milo’s lungs burned in a way they hadn’t since he first learned the whistles.

“T-Thank you,” he squeaked out. Then he cleared his throat, tried to sound like that manly man his father was, “It’s an ancient whistling system we’ve been using since our ancestors made the glyphs. Some folks think it’s based on a language they spoke since the whistles can be translated into messages. But nowadays we use only part of the system to herd our Wooloo flocks.”

“Wowza.” Holy god, she used wowza. Wowza. How dorky was that? “S-So you just sent a message and the other folks out there replied.”

“Mhm.”

“Wow. Like ancient text messaging.”

Well. When she put it like that, the whole thing made a whole lot more sense. She should be the one giving the glyph tours, not the old bat who droned on and on about the subtlety of the minerals inside the damn rocks.

“So what did you say?” she asked.

“Um. Three short whistles mean that a missing Wooloo has been found. That long one I got back means something like an okay.”

“I see… So I’m the missing Wooloo in this case.”

“Y-Yes. The folks who made this didn’t think to make one or two that differentiate between people and Pokémon but—“

She started giggling her head off. He promptly shut up.

“I’m sorry! I just— My grandma always jokes that if I was a Pokémon, I’d be a Wooloo because I’m always butting into things. Oh, the irony of all of this is really funny.”

He was smitten like a mitten for her right then and there. Because though his Wooloos gave him trouble occasionally, he loved each and every one of them with all his heart. And she did seem to have the general gentle demeanor of one. And she looked so, so soft.

She got off the ground, Appletun jumping into her arms and making himself cozy against her breast. Flapple ran circles around her feet, excited beyond belief.

“Wait. There’s a search party looking for me? Not just you?”

“Yes. Practically everyone in town—“

“Oh goodness! Everyone in town! Oh no. I’m so, so sorry about this. I didn’t realize—“

“Don’t worry about it. Like I—“

Growls came from the underbrush. Flapple ceased his run. Appletun looked to the trees beyond the meadow. Milo… put his face in his hands.

Of course, the whistle would alert every creature in that forest of their location. Of course. He didn’t think that through and because of that, he and his Pokémon and those Pokémon were going to suffer the consequences. He reminded himself he had to get better. He had to.

“Flapple, Appletun, on standby. Cherrim, brighten up a little but stay with the missus.”

Appletun jumped out of her arms and stood by a very alert, very antsy Flapple. Milo passed Layla his hat, Cherrim now glowing brighter than before.

Milo took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Gym Leader mode.

“Flapple, Dragon Dance. Appletun, Iron Defense. Let’s do this, lads.”

Flapple almost danced in the air as he stretched every muscle in his body. Appletun stiffened himself, ironed out the wrinkles in his defenses.

Milo waited… and waited… and waited…

The first Perrserker came out. Then another. Then another. Milo counted fifteen at the most. He didn’t want to needlessly hurt the poor things, especially that many. Flapple and Appletun had the power to truly mess up the fragile ecosystem the forests in the area had. Even just making the Pokémon faint could change the balance of things. So Milo pulled out a farmer trick first. A battle would be the last resort.

Milo stomped his foot on the ground in succession, trying to make the loudest, most intimidating sound he could. Meadow flowers weren’t very intimidating. It sounded better on rocks. But he had to stomp and stomp until his feet hurt if it meant he could startle them away.

“Stay away! Go home!” he commanded.

They drew closer.

He steeled himself again, shouted at them. 

“Scat! There’s nothing for ya here!”

They did not heed his warnings. So Milo sighed again. He regretted not being more macho. His father could do that with the ferocity of a dragon and he was the manliest man he knew. Milo, not so much. Because of it, he would have to do what he had to.

“Flapple, Appletun, Dragon Pulse - half-charge.”

The two charged up and shot out a thick wave of draconian energy, hitting all of the Perrserkers and bringing down a tree. Rookiedees and Rufflets flew out of their nests and into the night sky, squawking their complaints. The Perrserkers, now seeing the threat level, fled into the woods, not returning for a rematch.

Milo sighed one last time. Finished. He didn’t hurt them enough to not be able to heal on their own but they got their warning. Still, if they had only just listened to him.

“Good job, laddies. You’re getting real good at that.”

The two dragons turned to their Trainer and let out cheerful sounds. They would get good pats and a snack when they got home for their stellar performance tonight.

Milo turned to the pretty lady. “Are you—“

No. She wasn’t alright. Because there was a Meowth with its teeth in her leg. Blood streamed down her calf, staining her feet and the flowers below. Yet somehow she was smiling at it like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

“It’s okay, sweetie pie. I’m not upset. You can let go.”

Milo ran over, his dragons following and growling. The poor thing - it was so young that it hadn’t even grown its beard yet. It was shivering, crying. He had never seen a creature look so guilty before.

Layla bent down as much as she could, cupped its face in her hand.

“It’s alright now. Someone’s here with me. I’ll be able to get to a safe place to heal. You go on now. I forgive you.”

The Meowth slowly released its hold on her, its fangs slithering out of her. Then it lurched back little by little until it ran into a full sprint back into the underbrush.

Soft and delicate. She was just that.

She hissed slightly at the pain. Milo suddenly remembered the medkit in his hand.

“Let me help,” he insisted.

“No, no, I—“

He was already on his knees. Cherrim jumped out of his hat and stood next to him, smiling from cheek to cheek.

“Oh, you were charming her up for cuddles, weren’t you?”

Not an ounce of guilt on her face. Not even a little bit of it.

He didn’t need to lift her dress. The Meowth had sliced through the fabric down there, leaving a gaping hole. What a shame. The lace was so pretty. Regardless, the Meowth didn’t just bite her. It  _ crunched her _ , slashed her up for good measure.

“I’m alright. I can fix this when I get home.”

“You haven’t unpacked and I have a medkit right here.”

She furrowed her brow. “How do you…”

“I saw the movers. Rocky was one of them I think? He was the one to tell me you didn’t come back.”

“Oh.” She let out a sigh. “Still, I can handle this. It’s just a little blood.”

“The hard apple never gets eaten.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a Turfie saying. Stubborn people don’t get anything done. It would be silly to not let me help you. Besides, you wouldn’t want to walk back with this much blood coming out of you.”

“What—“

She looked down and saw her leg. She promptly grimaced then sighed.

“... I don’t want to trouble you more than I already have.”

“It’s no trouble helping you. It’s my job to help every single Turfie and you’re one now.”

She beamed like the moon at him. “Okay.”

She held out her leg for him. He held it up a little higher, realized she didn’t just look soft and delicate. And holy god hairless too. He knocked the thoughts out of his head with a frown. He shouldn’t think about this nice young woman in such a way. She needed his help and that’s what he should give her - and nothing more.

“It was playing with my dress and startled itself,” she told him, “I think it was too young to know not to play rough yet.”

“Seems so. I oughta catch the little guy. It looks like it has good potential as a herder. Little ones like that shouldn’t know how to use Crunch yet it did this better than a full-grown Perrserker.”

Milo opened the kit only to discover it was jam-packed full of supplies. He almost blushed, remembering how lightweight he thought it was. He kept on forgetting his own strength. For a normal person, that thing would’ve been heavy as heavy can be.

He took out antiseptic spray, sprayed her up and down with it. He looked up at her to gauge how much pain she was in. A lot. But she was toughing it out somehow.

“Laddies, why don’t you go comfort the missus,” Milo suggested to the waiting dragons by his side, “Pop always says that men must be gentlemen first and you two are men beyond compare. Go on now.”

The dragons left his side, headed over to the woman.

Milo took out the gauze, wrapped it right against the puncture holes. Then he took plasters and put them on the scratches. He did it fast, knowing from his boyhood that time was of the essence when it came to open wounds. When he finished, he collected the remains, shoved them in the medkit. As he stood up, he heard the world’s cutest giggle again.

Flapple and Appletun had made themselves quite cozy with the Wyndoner. Appletun had disintegrated almost, melted against her breast and arms. Flapple had settled around her neck, purring like a tractor against her neck and ear.

“You two are the silliest boys I’ve met, you know that,” she told them, “The silliest of willies.”

Oh god. If Milo had a tail, it’d surely be wagging.

“I-I said gentlemen, not savages. Git,” he half-reprimanded, half-stuttered.

Flapple jumped off her neck but Appletun seemed to want to have no business with his Trainer. Only the very pretty soft lady.

“Oh, for crying out—“ He clicked his tongue, put his hand on his head. “—I’m so sorry about this. I don’t know what’s become of him.”

“It’s quite alright,” she told him, “You asked him to comfort me and he’s just showing he’s expert at it.”

She smiled at Milo. Milo questioned his mortality.


	5. Walk

Milo liked the way she walked. Her footsteps were measured almost, considering every possibility of where to set down. She was so careful with his Appletun and Cherrim and Flapple. She seemed to be as considerate with him, keeping silent and letting their shoes do the talking. She wasn’t stupid enough to go barefoot in a forest, fortunately. She only abandoned her sandals for a few moments before Milo arrived.

“W-What are you doing here?” Milo questioned at one point.

“Hm?”

“In Turffield. We don’t have new people move here ever almost. You might be the first one in five years.”

She sighed almost dreamily, “Wow. I didn’t realize how extraordinary all of this might be for everyone... Well. I came here to rest, I guess.”

Rest? Turffield? Those were two words one doesn’t put together.

“Why?”

“I had a pretty good job in Wyndon and I made more than enough money to provide for myself until I pass. So I retired early.”

Retiring early. That sounded magical. Worrisome too. Not having to do anything sounded like torture.

“Why so far from Wyndon though? Ballonlea is incredible this time of year.”

“I’ve heard. But I heard there were flower fields and wheat everywhere here. It just sounded so… colorful and peaceful. I couldn’t resist.”

He smiled a little bit. Turffield truly was colorful and peaceful. That’s why he was very proud to be a Turfie.

“You should come out to the lake near here when you can. The water is clear as glass.”

“I’d like that.”

He glanced at Appletun. The Pokémon had decided to take a full-out nap in this woman’s arms. What a big baby.

“What did you do before?” he asked her.

“I was a nanny for kids and Pokémon.”

Milo knitted his brows. He wasn’t surprised about the first part of that sentence. But that last word muddled up his mind. “There are nannies for Pokémon?”

“Yes. Only the mega-rich need them though. They’re always working and they get all of these exotic Pokémon for bragging rights at the country club. So they find someone like me to care for them.”

“That sounds like fun.”

Milo jumped over the little stream before them, offered his hand to Layla. She shook her head and made it over herself by making a big step over it.

“It was for the most part. I got overpaid to play with Pokémon all day. It was a dream come true.”

“Why that though? It’s pretty odd for a job.”

“I wanted to be a Pokémon Center nurse. Then I wanted to be a Breeder. So Pokémon nannying was the closest thing I could get that combined the two.”

“I see. That’s why you were so calm with that Meowth.”

“Mhm. I’ve had full-grown Persians try to take a chunk out of me. That little kit was nothing.”

So that was why she was playing her injury off.

“Did you have a favorite family you worked with?”

Holy god, how was he getting himself to talk so much?

“Yes! I worked for an older couple who vacationed in Kalos every summer. Wherever they went, their staff went too. So they brought me and whoever I wanted along for the ride. Oh, their estate was full of wisteria trees and flower gardens. Absolute heaven. My grandmother loved it.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Mhm. She was old back then and she’s old now. I started taking care of her around the time I gave up on my Breeder dreams. My parents were too busy to do so. They have super professional jobs. My dad’s a pulmonologist and my mom a bioengineer.”

“The harder to pronounce, the fancier, I presume?”

She giggle-snorted. Holy god, she could giggle-snort. She was too perfect for this world.

“Mhm. Plus they just plain don’t like her. She has this carefreeness that I’m so jealous of. Maybe it comes with age? I dunno.”

At least she understood that going into a forest after dark wasn’t her being carefree - hopefully.

“Anyway, Grandma loves Kalosian culture. She wanted to live there when she was my age. It would have been wrong to not bring her with me. So I always did and she always loved every minute being there. I would love to buy her a house there and let her settle down but she keeps on refusing. Even the family I was working with wanted to do it for her. My grandma somehow became very good friends to them and they love throwing money at their friends. Instead, she forced my parents to take over her care and told me to do what I wanted with my life… She’s very good to me.”

“And you the same. You did bring her to Kalos every summer.”

She giggled. Oh god, she giggled like that all the time? What a blessing.

“I did.”

“What did you do as a nanny? We don’t have that sort of thing out here.”

“I’d assume so. I saw all of the farmers and their Yampers and Boltunds out in the fields when I got here.”

For half a second, he wondered if she saw him out there too.

“Anyway, I raised Pokémon, even bred and trained some of them. Not for battle of course. Only neat party tricks.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Oh, I know. Beyond weird. But that’s what I got paid for so I had to do it. And some days, I felt like I was the only one there who cared for the cuties. A lot of them were so sad, wondering why their Trainers didn’t pay attention to them. I used to cry about it. Pokémon are so dear to me. I don’t understand how someone can just leave them alone all day like that.”

His heart fluttered in his chest as he saw her watery eyes and puppy pout. Oh, he could understand that. He went everywhere with his Pokémon, let them work with him in the fields. How could anyone willingly abandon their friends like that?

She eventually perked back up and beamed.

“But I left all of that behind and here I am now,” she said with a sigh. “Starting a new chapter.”

“Well, thank you for choosing Turffield to start that chapter in. It means a lot.”

“And thank you for saving me. I would have been a scratching post if you didn’t find me.”

He snorted, smiled. “You’re welcome.”

They reached the edge of civilization and crossed the threshold out of the forest. At the bottom of the hill below awaited all of the search party. They applauded when they caught sight of the two. Milo thought again that he was coming down with something. He felt fiery hot all over.

“There you are.”

Milo’s father had crossed arms but a proud face as he saw his son return. His mother stood beside him, wrapping a blanket-covered arm around his father.

“We were wondering if you caught your death out there.”

“My bad,” Milo told him and the crowd, “Our newest resident was hurt while out there. It took some extra time coming back.”

He didn’t need to tell anyone about the Pokémon out there. No need to cause a ruckus over nothing.

“Well, why ain’t ya throw her ova ya shoulda?” Someone in the crowd asked, “You can carry five Wooloos on one arm if ya felt like showin’ off.”

Milo let out something like a squeak and everyone in the entirety of Turffield practically cracked up.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Another man asked her.

“I’m Layla. I’m sorry for causing all this trouble.”

“Ah, you won’t be the last city folk to do that. At least you got it over with early.”

She nodded, still frowning. Fortunately, everyone would look over that soon enough. They would never forget anything else she did though.

“You’re here by yourself or—“

“Oh my god, she literally just got here,” a woman shouted at that man. “Back off, why don’t ya?”

Another round of laughter. Milo played with the belt loops of his jeans, shifted his weight to the other leg. So. Folks were already mesmerized by her.

This real pushy lad asked her, “Do you want someone to walk you home? Cause it’s too late for a lady to be out here all by—“

Milo’s father cut him off like he used Throat Chop.

“You water the fields if the seeds are already there. Finish what you started, boy.”

And he looked to Milo.

Milo nodded. “Right. I’ll be doing that.”

Milo’s father nodded slowly.

“Let’s get you home,” Milo told Layla.

“Okay. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

And he gave her a big smile.

* * *

Cherrim continued to smile and enjoy her time out in the crisp night air, acting as the lantern for the two. Milo stared at her for a moment, examined her petals. Very, very delicate. The light under them showcased all of the veins and the fluids that flowed through them pumping. He would always be mystified by Pokémon. Always.

“It’s pretty here at night,” she said.

Milo shot right up. Cherrim’s filtered light danced across her eyes like shooting stars in the night sky. 

“But it’s so dark out here,” she added, “I may have to sleep with a nightlight until I get used to it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” he reassured her. “It can be scary. Challengers from the city tell me that they feel homesick when they sit in the darkness out here for too long.”

Layla tilted her head to the side a little, a wisp of hair falling off her shoulder and hanging over Appletun’s nose. She was about to ask something but the dragon sneezed.

“Oh! Sorry, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie Pie was an adorable name for an Appletun. Milo couldn’t help thinking that. Maybe he should name him that.

“You’re here all by yourself?” Milo asked.

“Well, I have my Pokémon but—“

Milo stopped walking. “You have Pokémon.”

Layla stopped too. “Yes. Two of them.”

“ _ Two. _ ”

“Mhm.”

“Why didn’t you bring them with you?”

“They were tired from travel. And I thought they needed more time to adjust to their new home. If they’re not happy, I’m not.”

He smiled. “I can respect that.”

The two conveniently stopped in front of her front gate. The moving truck was gone. The door was unlocked but closed. Appletun was very disappointed about having to stop being a lazy goose and get off his pile of gold. But he and Flapple went back into their Pokéballs with no fuss.

“Thank you again,” Layla said, “I’m in your debt.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m—“ And he pressed a hand against the nape of his neck. “— just doing my job, y’know.”

“Is your job rescuing lost idiots in the forest?”

Milo snorted. “It seems so.”

That got a giggle out of her again. Milo was so, so thankful he was born without a tail.

“I never got your name,” Milo mentioned. It would be nice to introduce himself. Though he already knew her name.

“I’m Layla. What’s yours?”

“Milo.”

It took Layla a few beats for her face to morph from normalcy to shock.

“Gym Leader Milo?”

He nodded.

Layla then gasped and smiled and told him, “My grandma has the biggest crush on you.”

He thought his heart stopped for a moment. Because he epically misheard her. He thought the “my” was an “I” and he did not hear that grandma bit.

“She thinks you’re such a hunk—“ She continued, “And your freckles are adorable. She watches all of your televised games. When we went to Kalos, she was heartbroken because there was no internet reception where we were staying so she couldn’t watch her Milo’s battles.”

He knew most of his fanbase were young children, elderly people, and folks who found farmers hot. Regardless of that fact, he always thought he was gonna pass out when he heard anyone even remotely describe him as attractive.

One of the unspoken qualifications for getting into the League was to be easy on the eye. That’s just the way how the money worked and the Galarian Pokémon League was fueled by sponsorships, donations, and the insanely rich. He didn’t know this when he went on his Challenge, failed to win when he reached the Semifinals and got that life-changing invitation in the mail to come to Wyndon for an interview. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror and see handsome. Maybe someone out there did but not him. He saw a nervous, painfully shy man who found solace in speaking to plants and playing with plant-shaped Pokémon. But it seemed a lot of people did. And he found that nerve-wracking.

He stood there with wide eyes and flat-lined mouth and absolute disbelief keeping his spine pin-straight.

“I’m over-sharing, aren’t I?”

He could only nod.

“I’m sorry. Um, forget I said that.”

How could he?

“Um. Good night, Mr. Milo.”

“Milo.”

“Huh?”

“Just call me Milo. And if you need help with anything, let me know.”

Layla nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She shut the door. He ran at top speed back to his house. And as soon as he clambered in, he slammed the door behind him and splayed out on the floor like a starfish.

How did he fall in love with someone that quickly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! That's all I'll be posting for a few days. I wrote a lot of this fanfic already so there's more content on the way soon. I hope you guys enjoyed this silly intro. The fanfic gets even sillier, I promise.  
> Stay healthy, drink water, and wash your hands! See you guys soon :D


	6. Woolen

Milo’s alarm clock rang before the sun rose. Though he didn’t want to get out of bed, he knew he must. That was the life of a farmer and farmer he was. Early to rise, early to bed.

“Wooloo or Wooly?” he asked the abyss groggily.

Something bleated an answer.

Oh. He couldn’t “oversleep” today.

He rose from his bed and let out a long and winded yawn. His peachy pink hair was a bird’s nest. He knew there had to be a little bit of wool in the mix. There always was then one of his Wooloos broke into his house.

Milo could sleep anywhere and on anything. From five to five he worked but he had a two-hour-long break. He would sometimes choose to nap in the meadows. And his herd of Wooloos liked to join him. Occasionally, a Wooloo or two wouldn’t understand that Milo only allowed them to nap with him _outside_ the cabin and break into his home to cuddle with him. It didn’t upset Milo too much. Wooloos cuddle with those they consider part of their pack as a way to keep the cold out. They just loved Milo is all and wished to keep him warm in the same way his mother would give him freshly knitted blankets and scarves and his father would tell him to get closer to the fire.

Still, the realization that a Wooloo had broken in meant he had to get out of bed. He tried to coax it, tell it to leave so he could get some more sleep. It did not move an inch of course. The cutie didn’t want to start the day either. So Milo slowly got out of bed and sighed.

“Y’know, I spent a lot of money on this bed,” he told the uncaring Pokémon, “The only thing in this house that’s a luxury is this. I even researched this and I’ve got no reason to research. Swanna feather topper and pillows, your buddies' fleece blankets, Snom cocoon sheets. And don’t even get me started on the mattress. It’s said to be strong enough to hold a Snorlax during its entire hibernation period but be as soft as a Mareep's wool. Everything else is older than your great-grandfather but the bed is something my salary went towards. But I never get to appreciate the damn thing because I’m either passing out before I can get a chance to enjoy it or you and your buddies are farting on it.”

The Wooloo looked at him for a second then laid right back down. What a bastard!

“Oh, I see how it is. You don’t cuddle with me for warmth. You cuddle with me for the bed, don’t ya?”

The Wooloo dare not look at him. Milo crossed his arms.

“And where’s Wooly, eh? Where’d you put my buddy, hm?”

Wooly was the plush Wooloo toy his apprentice Trainers made for him when the gym first opened. Leah was the smart one who convinced them to make a life-sized one. Samuel engineered the whole thing. Mark suggested they put a packet of dried lavender inside. Shellie signed the card and acted like they did anything. Wooly was supposed to be his actual cuddle buddy.

Milo rolled out of bed cumbersomely. He picked up the escape artist, went downstairs, and sent it on its way like a bowling ball down a lane.

“Go with your buddies. Git.”

The Wooloo somehow understood and rolled to the barn. Milo watched it go all the way in, even shut the door behind itself, before he could breathe. He crouched down for a moment then decided to sit on his stoop.

Meadowland Farm was beautiful all hours of the day. Still, if Milo had to choose a time, dawn made the place look sublime. The gloom-and-doom weather patterns always left the five acres of flora with morning dew on their leaves and stems. The sunlight lit the droplets white and bright, showcasing just how many plants were in the meadows. Clovers, Cocksfoot, Crested Dog’s Tail, buttercups, daisies. He even found cowslips a couple of times.

Cowslips were what persuaded him to buy the land. The cabin he now called home was originally so decrepit that the seller suggested he just look at other properties. Of course, Milo saw those bundles of yellow flowers growing by the front door. And he remembered he used to think that cowslips grew the way they did so that fairies could have bouquets ready to be picked and put into vases. They were what made him want to be a florist. They also made him buy the property, flip the whole house on its head, build a barn, put up fences, and become the owner of his farm.

He looked down by the doorstep, saw the familiar family of yellow wildflowers. He took one flower off from the stem, tucked it behind his ear.

It would be a normal day. He just knew it would be.

* * *

Milo thought he had imagined that whole night. Being with a girl as sweet as that all alone in a forest. She loved Pokémon too; a 2-for-1 deal. Regardless, he hadn’t been in town since and none of the farmers he worked with mentioned her. He genuinely thought she was a wayward spirit or something of that sort.

Then he saw her again.

He was doing his morning check and pep-talk of his flowers when he saw her through the windows in the front of the store. He had a habit of comparing people who were significant in his life as different flowers. His father is an aster and his mother an anemone for example. He confirmed then which flower Miss Layla would end up being. A morning glory. Because though she was beautiful in the moonlight, she truly blossomed in sunlight.

Layla was tanner than his white-as-paste self would ever be. Blessed with no freckles unlike him too. The dark blonde-ness of the bum-length lazy waves almost blended perfectly into her skin. Her face was full of soft lines and curves - even the point of her small nose was an almost gentle dip. And her eyes - oh her eyes. They reminded him of the color of the stone in his mother’s wedding ring. Sapphire-colored and bright somehow. She had such long eyelashes that her eyes almost fluttered away like migrating Butterfrees every time she blinked. And she dressed differently from any Turfie. She seemed to like light-colored, delicate numbers which the wind loved to make dance; unlike the hardy denim, warm tartan flannels, and cotton caps Turfie ladies usually wore.

She was so obviously city but she stood out the way morning glories did against a wall. They were considered pests to some but they were so soft on the eye that many found it hard to get rid of them. Layla would never be a pest in any shape or form. Milo would believe he was the one bothering her all the time. But she weeded her way into his heart so quickly that he couldn’t stop it in time. Even at that moment, as he stared at her, his heart ached for her.

Is this what his father felt for his mother when they met so long ago? Is that why they married so quick and young?

Miss Layla was looking through the window, frowning. She looked at the hours' sign on the door, looked inside again and frowned even more.

“Oh darn. Maybe this isn’t the right store then. Or maybe I’m losing touch with reality and it’s the wrong day or something… No. it’s definitely Tuesday, right?”

What the heck, Milo shouted in his head. How could anyone be that cute? She talks to herself too?

“Hey!” Susanna shouted.

So Susanna finally decided to show up. Either she had a good reason or she overslept. Milo was regretting not oversleeping then. Regardless, Susanna headed right over to Layla, smiling like the sun at her.

“You’re that Wyndoner, right?” Anna asked.

“Yeah. I’m Layla.”

“Oh, that’s such a pretty name.” She even cupped her cheek while sighing happily at the thought. 

Layla mirrored her movement, nodded instead of sighed. “Thank you! What’s yours?”

“Susanna but everyone calls me Anna or Ann around here.”

“Oh, that’s very pretty too.”

Susanna smiled, nodded. “Thanks! Are you looking to get in here?”

“Yes. I was told I could come by and get some flowers here.”

“You sure can. These are the best flowers in town. Gym Leader Milo grows them himself and he’s an expert in botany.”

The door to the store was unlocked, opened. Susanna turned on the lights and furrowed her brow.

“Miley?” Susanna sang, “Where are you? Hm. I thought he was here.”

Milo was hiding under the table in the back. Why? He had no clue. But he was.

“His nickname is Miley?”

“Yeah. Everyone around here calls him that or Milo the Mild. Isn’t that cute?”

“Sure is.”

Holy god, she thought his silly nickname was cute. He was going to die.

A vibration came from his Pokéball holsters. A flash of light and out came little Cherrim. She did a quick stretch, jumped into the bit of daylight peeking through the window and opened up her petals with a little twirl in her step. Then she ran right out of the room and away from Milo’s reaching hand. Why did the troublemaker have to be the one who came out?

“Oh! Hi there, sweetheart.” The floorboards creaked and Layla was probably petting the troublesome cutie.

“Huh. That’s Milo’s Cherrim… Do you know where Miley is, Cherrim?”

The flowery snitch came right back into the back room and did a little shimmy while pointing at her Trainer. Susanna’s feet came into view. She bent down, gave him a look.

She whispered angrily, “Why are you under there? You look ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, “Just get her to go.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just do it.”

She lowered her eyebrows, got back up and headed out the room.

“He’s in the back. I’m sure he can help you pick a bouquet out.”

_Shit!_

Unable to hide anymore, he slithered out from under the table, making sure not to hit his head on the top. Then he got up, put his hat back on his head, and headed into the front of the store.

Milo tried to work with what he had when it came to his flower shop. He could grow anything so his merchandise varied constantly. Sometimes, it was roses he found the seeds for in a dust-laced box. Sometimes, it was tulips from seeds he got from a neighbor. Since nothing was new in Turffield, neither was anything in there. The cash register was ancient; the coolers older. The tables the more popular flowers were on were old things the owner of the supermarket was tossing out. But he liked the way things were. And every customer liked it too. Nothing was new in Turffield after all.

“Hi again, Milo.” Layla gave him a big smile and a wave.

Oh Arceus in the heavens, he saw how short she was. She wasn’t particularly small in comparison to average-height Susanna. But her head could easily lean over and hear his heartbeat whenever she wished.

He hoped to god she couldn’t hear it then. It was hammering like a jackhammer.

“Hi, Layla. It’s good to see you again. How are you adjusting?”

“Very well. My Pokemon are overjoyed. Even Cleo here is wagging his tail all the time and he can be a grumpy lump.”

It was then that Milo noticed the Lucario next to her. A beaut he was. His fur shined in a way that just screamed: “My Trainer loves me”. He had a severe air to him. That was a big selling point for Lucarios from what Bea told him about them one day. The more intimidating they were, the more beautiful. The one thing that kept him from being perfect though was the clouded eyes. Lucarios had eyes that came in varieties of rubies, onyx, citrine, and sapphire, more valuable ones a combination of the two. But not stormy clouds that covered everything it could see.

Milo knew how Cleo came into this world. 

“Oh my god. Was he illegally bred?” Susanna asked.

Layla looked surprised. But she nodded, peered at her Lucario sadly. “Yes, he was.”

Susanna gasped, looked the poor thing up and down.

It seemed that Cleo wasn’t particularly down about his circumstances. He had the confident stance all of his species should have. Fortunately for him, he didn’t seem to have any other disabilities or deformities. Still, the whole situation could have been prevented if an experienced Breeder bred him. It was plain difficult to cause such a mishap due to the advancement of technology. But farmers always knew the logic all Breeders are trained to know today. The best Pokemon come from the best pairs. There’s no need to force anything. An egg will eventually appear and one should love it like a baby once it does. It was simple yet someone royally screwed up with a Lucario of all Pokemon.

“Was his breeder inexperienced?” She wondered, “This looks bad.”

“Very. But it’s not as bad as it seems. And Cleo’s happy and healthy, right, sweetie?” And she gave Cleo a quick pat on his head. 

Cleo wagged his tail. He didn’t seem to express emotion very well but there was a sense that he was thankful for her actions.

Susanna immediately squealed at the sight. “Even still, he’s gorge. I’ve never seen a Lucario in real life before. Oh my god, you’re beautiful, you know that?”

She reached out to touch him but Cleo growled. She swung her hand right back to her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Layla said, “He’s usually such a good boy. He’s just very protective of me and we’re in a new place and all. Don’t be mean, Cleo. She doesn’t know.”

Cleo looked up at his Trainer and acknowledged what she said with a little nod. Milo pouted. What did Susanna not know?

Susanna smiled, clapped to herself. “Oh, you’re so smart too. I’ve always wanted to find a Lucario or Riolu but they’re not common over here.”

“I’ve seen a few in the Wild Area,” Milo said, “But they’re hell to catch. There’s a saying that Lucarios only follow justice. And the only thing’s that just about you is your hatred of Mondays.”

Susanna scoffed. “Spicy today!”

“Mhm. I woke up in a very spicy mood today. Also, if you’re late because you overslept, just say it now and I won’t be disappointed later.”

“But I love it when you give me pouty face. You look so dang cute with it.”

Susanna came up and squished his cheeks up and down. Milo simply let it happen.

“I don’t give you pouty face,” he told her through mushed cheeks and lips.

“Yes, you do and that’s how you try to guilt-trip me.”

“But you should feel bad for being late to the job I pay you for.”

“But we’re Turfie. We open when we want to.”

Milo sighed. He couldn’t win with her. “Fine. Just don’t do it again.”

She released him and his very squishable face, smiled. “Thank you, ever so merciful Miley.”

“You’re welcome. Now, please help this very kind lady with—“

“Oh no, you’re not. You water the field if the seeds are already there. And I said I was going to have you assist her.”

Milo wanted to groan oh so badly. But he didn’t want to hurt Layla’s feelings. Thus, he gave up and sucked it up.

“Fine. But make sure the displays outside are ready by the time we’re done.”

“Gotcha. Have fun!”

Susanna picked up one of the buckets of flowers left near the door the night prior and headed right out the door. Milo let out a sigh. Late but she was good at what she did.

Layla cocked her head to the side. “Is something wrong?”

Oh, she looked like a Wooloo like that. Oh, he couldn’t _stand_ it.

“Susanna runs my store for me while I’m out on the field. I was supposed to be there half an hour ago but I couldn’t leave the store unattended so…”

“You should go then. I wouldn’t want you to be any later.”

“It’s fine. You water the field if the seeds are already there. And besides, nothing ever starts or ends when it’s supposed to ‘round here.”

Layla smiled. “Thank you.”

Milo gulped. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well! My city is probably going to go into lockdown due to the COVID-19 crisis so I thought uploading another chapter could help spread some relaxation to those who need it. It's such a stressful time. Make sure to take time for yourself during this time period. Even if it's just sitting in the bathroom and doing breath exercises - it's important to remember that your mental health is important too. Wash your hands, don't touch your face, and stay home as much as possible.
> 
> The tides will change eventually. And this will become a tale we tell the next generation to hopefully prevent such a crisis from happening again.


	7. Flora

Milo wandered around the store, trying to disguise his peeks at her. Layla was looking at all the flowers with such tenderness. He was confident in his green thumb but seeing her love them all made his tiny ego soar.

Milo felt eyes glaring at him at one point. He looked over his shoulder. Cleo, arms crossed and back leaned against the counter. He was glaring at him. So, was that what it was like for Pokémon to use Intimidate? It must be his Ability. It must. Regardless, it was clear that Cleo did not like what Milo was doing. So he looked out the window instead.

Susanna was rocking on the balls of her feet and heels with this giddiness while she waited for potential customers to come by. Things would get busy around lunchtime. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be waiting out there for that long though.

“Milo?”

He spun around with a quickness he didn’t know he could do.

“I’m really sorry but I’m having a hard time choosing. Everything here is so beautiful. It’s like choosing which child you like more. Would it be alright to ask if you could choose some for me?”

“Of course. How many do you need?”

“Just enough for a small vase.”

“Hm. Okay.”

He stared into her eyes for a few moments. They were truly the prettiest shade of blue. Then he remembered what flower was also that color. Just like that, he knew what to give her.

“I’ll be right back. I have one in mind. I’m going to bring it out for you to look at.”

He went to the back, grabbed the pot and came back out. Layla gasped.

“Oh, these are gorgeous,” she complimented, “I’ve never seen anything like them. What are they called?”

“Flabébé’s Flower. Or Fairy Flowers if you’re in Aloha. They’re beloved by a Fairy-type Pokémon called Flabébé. When they’re born, they find one of these they like and protect them their whole life. They’re native to Kalos and you mentioned you’ve visited it before so I thought you’d like this blue variety of them.”

“I do. I really do. Are you sure about this? What if there’s a lost one who needs its flower buddy?”

Flower buddy? He wanted to scream, bang his head on the table. How could one human being say such cute things without thinking twice about it?

“Flabébé aren’t found in Galar. There are not enough meadows here anymore. So I think it’d be fine.”

“Oh. Well. Then… I’ll take one.”

Milo smiled, nodded. “Alright, one it is. Pick which one you want.”

“Oh. Like a Flabébé.”

He didn’t even think of that. And he snorted at his silliness for walking into that.

“Right.”

She peered at them, examined every flower, while he took out his cutting shears, flower paper, and roll of green ribbon. When he finished, she smiled at him.

“I’d like this one.”

It was the smallest one. Why did he have a feeling she still believed there were Flabébé in Galar?

“Alright. I’ll wrap that up for you.”

He took the flower gently into his hand and snipped the base of the stem off. He then placed the flower in the middle of the wrapping paper and went to work.

“So his name is Cleo, huh.”

“Oh, that’s just a nickname. His real name is Clementine.”

Clementine. A Lucario named Clementine. Why did it only work because this sweetheart of a woman was his Trainer? Anyone else doing such a horrendous act would be publicly shamed. But Layla got away with it.

She could get away with anything if he smiled at her.

“Why is Clementine named Clementine?”

Cleo’s ears perked up and eyes watched Milo’s hands move with wonder.

“He loves clementines.”

Milo snorted. “So you named him after his favorite fruit.”

“Mhm. He likes his name too. Oh, you should have seen him as a Riolu. Whenever I told him to come back in after a day of playing, his whole body would wiggle. Now that he’s a Lucario, he’s calmed down a lot. Still a sweetie though. Instead of an Audino or Wigglytuff, my nursing assistant is him.”

She smiled at Cleo. Cleo’s tail wagged again. What a good boy.

“Lucarios see Auras, right? I remember Bea mentioning something like that before.”

She nodded. “That’s why being blind isn’t the end of the world for him. And even if he couldn’t, it would be alright. Lucarios can sense feelings, movements, thoughts, the whole nine yards. When one sense is gone, the rest just get stronger.”

Milo gulped, glanced at Cleo. Cleo rolled his eyes at him.

Milo dared to think of something. _You can hear everything I’m thinking?_

Cleo nodded.

Sweat built on Milo’s forehead. _You don’t like that I have feelings for your Trainer, do you?_

And Cleo surprisingly shrugged. And Milo almost _sighed_. Was he talking to her father or was he talking to her Pokèmon?

Layla had continued the whole time while they were having that one-sided conversation. “—With his blindness, his ability to see Auras is much more extensive. I took him to a doctor once and the doc thought I was lying about his eye problems. He thought Cleo could see perfectly. I like to imagine it’s the outlines of everything he sees. He can see a book but not the cover.”

“Hm. That’s interesting. Can he see faces?”

“I’m not sure. He can touch faces though and maybe he can build an image of it in his mind.”

“Like touching the book.”

“Mhm.”

Another glance at the Lucario. _Do you think I’m ugly?_

Cleo nodded. Snarky!

“That’s very cool.”

“Right? You're so cool, Clementine.”

Cleo’s tail wagged a mile a minute. His eyes almost sparkled. Layla gave him a good pat on his head. Okay. Were everyone and everything associated with her cute?

“What about you?” Layla asked. “Have you named any of your Pokémon?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“How come? I’d assume a Gym Leader would name his Pokémon.”

“It’s a League thing. You can’t name any Pokémon you catch after you become Gym Leader. The ones you had before can’t be called by their nickname during battle too. It’s a privilege only allotted to Challengers and non-League Trainers.”

Layla frowned. “Oh. That’s… sad.”

It was.

“If you could, what would you name them?”

He blinked. His ears burned and tickled almost. Had he ever gotten that question before in his life? He had to keep himself from going on a tangent. He didn’t want her to think he was preachy or weird. But the child in him was threatening to explode, wanting to blabber on and on about the silly names he’d give his crew of cuties.

“Well… Um… I was thinking Cherrim would be Cloud.”

As he said that, Cherrim, still in her Sunshine form, hopped up onto the counter and did a little twirl.

“There’s a Kantoian belief that Cherrims were created by Arceus to be the clouds. It took his attention off them for a moment and they ate grass instead of drinking water. So they became flowers instead. Still, the way they gather and huddle up look like clouds on trees they deem their nests. And little missy here can be a sassy airhead.”

Cherrim looked up at him and stomped her little foot on the tabletop, trying to show her baby rage to the two people and one Pokémon in the room. Milo chuckled, gave her that look that always buttered her up while holding out his hand to her. She reluctantly climbed up his arm and plopped down on his shoulder.

“My Flapple would be Silver. Since he’s a Dragon-type too, he tends to hoard things he likes.”

“And he likes silver things?”

“Mhm. And it can’t be something that looks like silver. It has to be silver. So he robs people of their jewels.”

Layla cracked up. God, hearing her laugh did so much for him.

“My Appletun would be…” And he debated whether he should tell her he would name the cutie the little pet name she cooed at him the other day. “... Sweetie Pie.”

“Aw! That’s a really cute name.”

“Y-Yeah. He liked it when you called him that. So I…”

“Oh? Y-You’d name him that because I called him that?”

He nodded. “He and my Flapple are big babies. So it’d make sense to name one of them something adorable.”

“I see… What about your Gossifleur and Eldegoss?”

“Is your Grandma a big fan of them?”

She smiled, her eyes creasing like a happy bird’s. “She adores them. Her favorite Pokémon has always been Eldegoss so seeing you show off how powerful and wonderful they are gets her going.”

“Well. That’s nice to hear. A lot of folks think Grass-types are like the blondes of the Pokémon types. They just respect the balance of nature more than others so they try their best to not do too much damage. They prefer creation over destruction. They make great roommates.”

Layla giggled. Milo’s heart fluttered.

“Even your sassy little Cloud here?”

Cherrim hopped off of Milo’s shoulder. She made a little beeline to Layla, did a little spin and rose her arms up. Layla held her hands out, letting the little flower jump into them. Layla put Cherrim on her shoulder. Cherrim rested her head against her ear, smiling and shutting her eyes.

“Yeah. She’s very neat. If there’s even a sock on the floor, she won’t let me hear the end of it until it’s put in the laundry bin.”

“Just like Cleo.” And she gave Clementine a little scratch behind his ears. “So, what would you name them?”

“Hm. My Eldegoss would be Lorrie and my Gossifleur Zelda.”

“How come?”

“They’re named after my aunts. Both are dead but I like to think they came back to the world as them. Mum says they act exactly like them. They even like the same foods they did. Life can be strange like that, y’know?”

She nodded, smiling again. He smiled too. Her joy was contagious.

He decided to add a bonus just for that. Her smiles were almost shy so he thought a couple of peonies would suit her fancy. He went over to the flower cooler with them in it, pulled out two of the immaculate-looking ones.

“My Ludicolo would be Lolo and my Shiftry would be Shifty. They are amongst the first Pokémon I ever caught and back then, I was a kid with a very silly mind.”

“I see.”

He headed back over and put them with the blue beauty. 

“Finally, Bellossom would be Dawn. She likes to watch the sunrise. It’s certainly odd. She starts fights with anything that moves. Even if that thing is ten times her size. But seeing her do that makes her look almost… smart.”

She snorted. He cracked up.

“Those are wonderful names. I wish I had put more thought into naming my Pokémon.”

“H-Hey. Clementine is a really good name.”

“But… sometimes I wonder. I don’t think a Lucario with Clementine for a name will get any street cred at the playground.”

He snorted. So she knew of her crimes against nature.

“I guess so.”

“How many Pokémon do you have?”

“Eight.”

“And that’s not including your farm Pokémon, right?”

He nodded. Her eyebrows nearly flew off her head.

“I’m the oldest of eight so it just felt natural to be surrounded by a lot of noise. When I moved out, I couldn’t get over how quiet it was. So I caught all of them so that void could be filled.”

“I see. Is it difficult?”

“If my parents could do it, so can I. And they’re all very mild-mannered. It’s much easier than it could be. I’m very lucky such sweet Pokémon are with me.”

The conversation died after that but the silence wasn’t awkward. Milo thanked all high heaven it wasn’t awkward. He already felt that way. He didn’t need it to be real. He finished the wrapping by tying the end with a bit of the green ribbon.

“Good. That’ll be free.”

Layla reached to get her wallet. Then she noticed what he said.

“Treat this like a welcome gift,” he told her.

“Oh no, I simply can’t. I don’t deserve it after all that trouble I caused you the other day.”

“I insist. I don’t think it’d be right to charge you for only a few flowers. Take it.”

Layla pouted this puppy pout. He wondered if she was trying to think of a rebuttal. But soon enough, she came up empty.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

She held out her hands as if she was waiting for her liege to put her sword there. He put the flowers in her hand. When he pulled his hands away, his fingers brushed hers.

Goodness, she had the world’s softest hands, didn’t she?

“Thank you. Really.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Is it alright if I repay you for this somehow? I just can’t help feeling guilty.”

“Well, if you wanna…”

And he gave it a few beats of thought before he said the first thing his mouth would let slip out.

“Make me a pie.”

“Huh?”

It didn’t click that he said that right away. So he had to say it again - make me a pie - for his mind to figure out that yes, he just asked this woman he just met to bake him a pie. What the hell was wrong with him?

Yet, she said, “Okay.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Mhm. I was planning on making one already. I’ll just make another. I was thinking Pecha Cobbler. Is that alright?”

 _Yes. God yes._ He loved a good meat pie but he had a secret affair with Unovan sugar-sweet pies. 

“That sounds great.”

“Perfect. Okay. Um. Should I come back here and give it to you?”

“Hm. I guess so. I close up shop around 5:30.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll be there with your pie. Thank you again.”

Cherrim jumped off her shoulder and back onto the table. She waved goodbye to Layla sweetly. Layla waved back, headed out the store. Cleo stared at him for a while longer before he followed after his Trainer. And silence filled the air. And Milo sighed.

Cherrim looked up at him, tilted her whole body almost to her side.

“I'm just being silly, love. Nothing to worry about.”

He was only just becoming more and more smitten with the girl.


	8. Paparazzi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! Uh, let's have a quick chat before you get into this. So, uh, Chairman Rose reeks son-of-a-bitch energy (did you see that new Twilight Wings episode??? If a man looked at me the way he looked at Nessa, he'd be a dead son of a bitch I'll tell you that) so I got motivated to write a bit about him to help give some more context of Milo's reactions in this chapter. And I might continue to do this occasionally throughout this fanfic! But, um, my depiction of Chairman Rose is very manipulative, especially to vulnerable folks such as Milo and the other gym leaders and Champ. And that might not be your forte. So I'll be warning ahead of time when these chapters come up. Since this is teen-rated, it won't get particularly graphic. Still, manipulation is hard to get into when you're here for fluff. So, uh, if you don't like that, you can absolutely just skip this chapter. There will still be endless fluff and silliness but I think it's important to justify why Milo is acting the way he is. And the only way to do so is to go through his past and because of his connections with Rose, I can't imagine them being pretty. So. Yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

It was like the Queen was visiting - which would never happen. Layla was chatted at by everyone who locked eyes on her. It was worse than starting a Pokemon battle. Everyone in Turffield practically wanted to know her entire story upon the first meeting. It made sense in a way. A young Wyndoner suddenly wanting to retire in their village - it sounded fishier than the day-old fish from Seaport. But most of the folks seemed to like the idea. He dare say she might make a proper star in the countryside.

He saw the back of her dark blonde head and remembered when he saw a light blonde one towering above him. He was fourteen yet he looked like someone ripped a teddy bear's head off and shoved it on an action figure's body. He wanted to cry or throw up - both honestly. That begrudgingly brief letter was in his back pocket, probably all wrinkled up.

"Don't mess this up," the blonde hissed once they arrived in front of a set of sterile double doors.

She turned around only slightly to look down upon him. She could be a model but her tongue was too serpentine to get her past a casting call.

"The Chairman doesn't give second chances."

He gulped. She didn't wait for him to respond.

The general air of the office of the Pokemon League's Chairman should have told him to run his farm-boy arse back to Mummy. It was the height of the summer yet it was freezing in there. The sunlight peeking from the windows did not give the room any warmth. It dyed the League memorabilia, the occasional plant, and pictures of his family and achievements blue and glum. Yet it danced almost happily across all of the metal and glass. The artificial snuffed out the natural so easily.

"You must be Milo."

Chairman Rose's smile was out of place in such a frigid atmosphere. Unfortunately, it helped settle some of the nerves in Milo's body. He might just cry then. No more nausea.

Milo nodded softly. The blonde shot him a glare.

"Now now, Ollie," Rose chided the way a father would his rambunctious daughter, "There's no need for that. Not all of the applicants are expected to be... gregarious."

“Ollie” blinked, went to her clipboard like she hadn't done a thing.

"Please, sit." And Rose waved a hand over the chair across from his desk.

Milo nodded, sat down with a rush. He had to take a fear piss so badly.

“Do you know who I am?” Rose asked.

Milo didn’t know at the time. He wanted to seem smart in some way so he tried to come up with something. He felt the paper in his back pocket then.

“You’re the sender of that letter I received, right?”

Rose chuckled, smiled. “Yes, I am. I’m Augustus Rose, the chairman of the Galar faction of the International Pokemon League and president of Macro Cosmos. Most know me as Chairman Rose, the friendly face who gives that wonderful World of Pokemon speech every year during the Finals.”

He looked up at the icy blonde standing next to him. “And this is my assistant, Oleana. She’s quite the battler too. If she didn’t keep refusing, I’d have her in your seat instead.”

Milo sort of nodded in her direction. “D-Do you like Grass-types?”

“Poison,” she answered like she was going to poison him.

Milo gulped, looked at his jeans and played with his hands in his lap.

"Well, if I hadn't had a first-row seat to that Quarterfinals match, I wouldn't have known you're the gentleman who united the countryside together again. ‘The Whistle That Echoed Across Galar.’" And Rose waved his hand above him like a rainbow or headline he was imagining. "Truly, it was a sound to behold."

Milo couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, he looked at the chairman's slacks from underneath the glass desk. They looked expensive - real expensive. The pinstripes were embroidered gold. He imagined it was real gold - considering how much money this man must make. He could sit on his arse and daydream for a couple of hours and make more money than every family in Turffield would ever see.

"Right."

Rose cracked up, clapped a rich man's clap too. "You're funny."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. You seem to not know when you're being complimented."

"Oh. Um. Sorry."

Rose glanced up at Oleana, smiling with a look. Milo didn't think much of it at the time. As he got older though, he grew suspicious of that look. Were they scheming something? He didn't know or care to think about it anymore than he could. He was a busy man. Busy men don't get to think.

"No need for that. Really, I must know. Why did you do that?"

"Hm?"

"That whistle. Oh, it was spectacular. I couldn't hear right for a couple of hours afterward. It was like _music;_ an orchestra."

"... It's just a herding call."

"Hey hey, I've had my agents scope out Turfland-"

"Turffield," Oleana quickly corrected.

"Right. Turffield. I've had them scope out the area and, let me tell you, they didn't hear anything like that."

God. He had to explain to him the truth. He had to explain something to someone in general. The nausea was coming back with a vengeance.

"The whistles we use are based on a--" And Milo realized the pinstripes were _writing,_ not just little lines on the fabric. "--language system our ancestors used. All of the tribes from back then spoke different languages but whistles can be used universally so-- They turned the whistles into a shared language. And um, when they weren't herding Wooloos or whatever, they were making poetry so--"

" _That_ was a poem." And Rose's eyebrows nearly flew off his head.

"Yeah."

"Wow." Many things were fake about Chairman Rose but the sheer wonder on his face then wasn't. "And what did you say? It's translatable piece, right?"

"Y-Yeah. It's a poem women would whistle when they were calling for their husbands to come home from the fields."

"Oh. That sounds lovely... But why were you doing that right before a Quarterfinals match?"

And Milo looked him in the eye. And he made the mistake of being truthful with him.

"My parents didn't want me to ever go on the Challenge. I'm the eldest of f-" He had to correct himself. "Seven."

Oleana seemed to sweat at that number. Milo knew girls could sweat but he couldn't imagine such a cold woman ever could.

"I have lots of responsibilities at home so going off to do the Challenge wasn't taken well. I technically ran away to do it. And my parents were upset. And right before the Quarterfinals match, I got a phone call from my dad. My mum was pregnant with my twin sisters and she unexpectedly went into labor. Something was wrong and she needed to go to hospital. And he told me to never come home if I become the Champion."

Rose had this ability to just ooze empathy. That was how he lured people under his wing. Not took. Lured. That was how he lured Milo. Because for the first time, someone seemed to understand how awful things were for him.

"That's awful. Was everything alright with your mother?"

"Y-Yeah. She and the twins are fine."

"I see. Well, that is certainly wrong of your father to say. I'm sure things were stressful at the time but there is no excuse to lash out on a child who just wanted to be a child for once."

And Milo felt so much relief then. Because finally, someone understood how he felt. He wanted to cry - not out of fear though.

"Um. Anyway. I realized I couldn't keep being selfish anymore. So I whistled that... poem-thingy because I wanted to tell my parents I was throwing the match... I wanted to go home."

And Rose looked stupefied for a moment. Then he glanced at Oleana again just to make sure he wasn't losing it. Oleana nodded. Yes. He just admitted to the Chairman of the Pokemon League he had every intention to throw one of the most televised sporting events of the year.

"I must say." And Rose firmed up for a moment. "If that was you throwing a match, I would be terrified to battle you."

"Uh. Well. I wanted to throw the match but I... ended up... not doing it."

"How come?"

"It... It was against Leon, y'know." And Milo sort of smiled.

"Do you know our new Champ?"

"No. But he was one of the only Challengers I met who wasn't trash-talking me or trying to beat me up. And he can battle like no other. My team and I had so much fun that I just... kind of forgot about giving up. I gave it my all because of him.”

Rose nodded, smiling too. "He does seem to have that way with people. I'm overjoyed he is our Champion right now. And I'm just as delighted to have you as our new Grass Gym Leader."

And Milo nearly shit a brick.

"What?"

"My apologies for not letting you know my intentions in that letter."

And Milo took out the crumpled up, moist-with-sweat document from his back pocket, took a gander at it. Nope. It did not say even in the slightest that this was a goddamn interview to be a goddamn Gym Leader.

"We can't have the public knowing about this process and some folks like to... babble. So we keep it all very hush-hush."

Milo didn't understand but he dare not question it. He had no right, he felt.

"But yes. We see great potential in you."

"I thought there already was a Grass gym leader."

Ozzy. His star Pokemon was an immaculate Roserade. Milo took him down and his entire team in mere minutes. When he gave Milo his badge, he said he was gonna give him a run for his money one day.

He didn’t mean to steal his job.

“Oh, yes. But not anymore.”

“What?”

“Ollie, do you have this morning’s paper?”

And Oleana procured a copy of The Wyndon Times from the coffee table in the room. She placed it before the chairman carefully then returned to his side.

“Thank you.”

And he spun it around and slid it across the table towards Milo. _The Scandal of the Decade: League Sends Everyone Packing._ He was beyond perturbed just by the headline.

“I recently came across a… problem amongst our ranks. The reason this League runs so smoothly isn’t just because of the mild weather and lack of crime and all. It’s because every single one of us _loves_ Pokémon, our careers, and our League. We are committed to honesty always. And I appreciate you for being honest with me just now about your family situation.”

And Milo was taken aback by the suddenness of the confession.

“It’s… uh… Yeah.”

“As I was saying, honesty comes first. And it seemed some of the highest-ranking members of our League were not being honest with me. And there’s no room for liars here. So they all had to go.”

“... What?”

“Out of 18 major and minor League Gym Leaders, 13 were let go yesterday.”

Milo chose to remember the letter in his pocket was received two weeks prior.

“We did what we could to stop the paparazzi and tabloids from getting hold of this nonsense but there was a whistleblower amongst our ranks. She’s packing up her office as we speak too.”

“... Why?”

“Oh. Right. It makes sense. Kids these days have no reason to read the paper.”

And Rose took the paper and cracked it open with an unnecessary flourish.

“The lion-like force that is Galar’s Pokémon League has been declawed after startling news came to light. From racketeering and blatant misuse of League funds to trading rings and bloodsport battling, many Gym leaders and higher-ups of the League have been revealed to have a hand in many illicit activities.”

Rose folded the paper back up and put it back on the table.

“Not good, right?”

And Milo couldn’t even shake his head, must less speak.

“If they had at least admitted to doing these things, I could have had it covered up. But they had to lie to my face about it. And the fish rots from the head. So they all had to go. All of them.”

“... Who’s left?”

“Amongst your soon-to-be co-workers, Kabu of Motostoke, Melony of Circhester and Opal of Ballonlea.”

And Milo frowned and did the math as best as his dumb mind could. Ten Major League Leaders. Only two were left. That meant eight people were fired yesterday.

“... What did Ozzy do?”

“Hm?”

“What did the Gym Leader whose position I’m… taking do in all of that?”

“Nothing as extreme as the other ones. You should be grateful you’re replacing him. Oof. Leon and— What’s that boy’s name? The one who’s replacing Midgard.”

“Raihan,” Oleana filled in.

“Right. He and Leon are replacing the ones with the worst accusations here. Midgard of all people being a major player in the Dragon smuggling ring he was supposed to be taking down. And the Champ— God, he was already a bribe baby and now—?”

There were so many terms and words that were being so very casually thrown around that Milo couldn’t wrap his head around them. So he just sat there and let the Chairman complain about the circumstances they were in; that Milo was being dragged in.

“Regardless, compared to them, Ozzy did very little. But he lived an… alternative lifestyle. And when questioned about it, he refused to admit it. He’s a liar. So, he had to go as well.”

Milo finally made out what the words in the pinstripes were. Truth is your sword, justice is your shield.

“And that’s where you come in.”

And Milo’s attention was piqued. And he could finally look him in the eye.

“You will be amongst a new wave of boys and girls who are going to change Galar for the greater good. The Committee and I have discussed in great detail since our new Champion took the throne what was missing from the League. Well, the answer was something in our faces for so long that we overlooked it. Young people - like you.”

Rose folded his hands on the desk, showing off his ring and watch. The ring was a big fat ruby encased in a thick silver band with words from some dead language etched into it. The watch was golder than gold, big and fat and worth too much money for any human being to even have.

“Most of the competitors are pre-teens and teenagers yet we focused all of our energy on the wrong demographic. Our branding, image - all too adult for an objective focused on the next generation of Trainers. We need starry-eyed, bushy-browed individuals like yourself to bring reality back to our torn-up League. We need kids - a lot of them. And you’re an incredibly talented kid.”

He reached across the table, offered Milo his hand.

“So, will you join us?”

And Milo stared. And stared. And stared. And he heard a whistle from the lakeside call him home.

“I’m sorry. But. No.”

Rose looked like Milo had stabbed him in the back.

“My family needs me right now and I’ve had enough with being selfish.”

Rose frowned. “... Is this about the crop crisis?”

“The what?”

“My company has a department specializing in disaster prevention and insurance. There have been problems with the fields, right?”

“... Yeah. Crops just won’t grow where they should anymore.”

“Well, we’ve done our research and we discovered the reason why.”

Rose picked up a tablet from his left-hand side and slid it across. Milo was met with an image of a Pokémon battle, Dynamaxed Pokémon going at it.

“There’s a Power Spot there.”

“What?”

“There’s an old saying about this. With great power comes great loss. With Power Spots come deathl. It’s sucking all of the life out of the earth in the fields. That’s why the crops won’t grow.”

With a swipe of his finger, Rose turned to the next image - a town map of Turffield and an architectural plan for a Gym.

“The Gyms aren’t just Gyms. Most days of the year, they’re being used for another purpose. For example, Hammerlocke Stadium isn’t just the home of Dragon tamers. It is a Dragon-type research facility, power plant, and home of the graduations for Hammerlocke University. Once the Power Spot is contained and its energy is funneled properly, any further damage will be prevented.”

“But the soil will be no good.”

Rose… nodded. “Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Life doesn’t cycle back the way it should when a Power Spot’s involved.”

Milo looked at his hands. Guilt made them sweat and tremble. 

“I know how tough things have been for you and your family.”

Milo looked up at him, bug-eyed and tight-lipped.

“The losses from this mess have been devastating. Over 70% of the people there have lost their incomes.”

Milo nodded. It sounded about right.

“But your family wasn’t affected.”

Another nod. “The farm’s far from where the epicenter is. Even if we hunker down, we won’t be affected for another year or so. Maybe. But… everyone in town looks up to us as the real leaders of Turffield. Things are getting tense because we weren’t affected. I’m a little scared.”

“Ah. Well. There is a way to fix all of this - you know that, right?”

And Milo was slack-jawed. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you heard of underground farming?”

The idiot in the room shook his head, asked what in the world underground farming was.

“Well, it’s farming done in a facility underground. Hence the name. It’s a nifty thing. Instead of the sun, grow lamps. Everything else is the same. There’s soil, water, delicious produce. I’ve invested quite a pretty Poke into the technology behind it and it could change the world for the better. There could be food shortages in the near future due to global warming, overpopulation, you name it. But with underground farming, those will no longer be a worry. The basements of these Gyms are big and empty usually. But the Committee has already agreed to invest their time and money into turning the basement of the Turffield Gym into a farming facility. Everyone who has lost their livelihoods can regain them. The economic turmoil can be reversed in a matter of months.”

Rose looked to Oleana. A Rotomphone floated out of her pocket and flew its way over to Milo.

“The numbers there are what you will be making. Today, you will be going home with an advance on your first six months’ salary. Don’t tell anyone.” And Rose winked at him. “If you sign with us today, you will start working with us today. You will receive additional money - line 4B I believe - upon completion of your training period. After that, you will have biweekly payments once you start as a Gym Leader.”

That was a lot of Poké.

“If you distribute the money we give you today to those in need, everyone can stop bickering with their insurance companies and cover the losses on their own. And there will be plenty left to help your family and the two new additions. You will single-handedly save your community by the end of the day today.”

Rose held out his hand again.

“Now. Shall I try this again?”

And Milo heard a giggle. Instantly, he got out of his head and back into reality. Someone got Layla giggling that pretty giggle of hers. Laughter soon followed from all those crowding around her.

God, what was he doing? Why was he drooling over someone he couldn’t have? He had to be a Gym Leader first. He couldn’t be with her. He couldn’t. He would continue to be kind to her but that was all. He couldn’t keep feeling like the way he was.

Noise rang and yanked at his ears. Milo decided he should hurry to the fields. He was starting to hate silence but he knew noise was always going to be his enemy.

“I use my right to go and get!”

And that’s what made his feet stop right in their tracks.

No. No one would be that stupid, right?


	9. Bachelors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I have finals starting today! But am I uploading a chapter to spite myself and my grades? Hell yeah. Good luck for those who have them!

Milo ran down the street, headed through the quickly growing crowd of people. How did all of these people even gather that quickly? Was he that deep in his head? Once he parted through the sea of people, he let out a deep sigh.

Of course. Only a kid would be that silly.

Little Tommy stood proudly; hands on hips, feet apart, two steps away from doing the Charizard Pose. His mother was probably going to pound him when she found out he slipped away from the house to do Wooloo Bowling with the lads again. Speaking of the laddies, they were cheering him and his silliness on like fans at a Gym Battle. The little hole in his teeth still hadn’t filled in with his adult teeth. His cap - League memorabilia - was backward as always. If there weren’t enough hints, Tommy and his gang were seven years young.

“Hello there, Handsome,” Layla greeted in that kid’s show hostess voice.

And Little Tommy and the laddies gasped and shrieked in surprise. A pretty lady calling him handsome - what a feat!

“H-Hi. I’m Tommy.”

“Hiya, Tommy. I’m Layla. Do you like Leon?”

“Yeah! He’s my hero. Isn’t he the best?”

The laddies agreed, showing off their hard-earned Charizard toys. It was difficult to convince a parent in the area to buy something non-essential like an action figure. The boys had to prove that there was value in them. And they did. So, well-earned indeed.

“Sure is. That’s why he’s the Unbeatable Champion, right?”

The boys nodded, set their eyes on Clementine.

“Is that Pokémon yours?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. This is Clementine. Stay hello, Cleo.”

Clementine let out a curt woof. The boys had stars in their eyes.

“Wow. Like Bea’s.”

“Mhm. He’s a Lucario, a cool Fighting-type. Do you know what his other type is?”

He gave Cleo a once-over, noticed the metal bands on his extremities. “ _ Mmm _ Steel?”

“Yes! Good job.”

Tommy’s face was like a tomato when he saw Layla’s beam at him. Yet he still tried to walk over to pet Clementine. Clementine responded but resting his paw against Tommy’s reaching hand and pushing it away gently.

“Huh? Why won’t he let me pet him?” he asked.

“Clementine doesn’t like people petting him,” she said as if she rehearsed it.

“Is he mad?”

“No, no. He just likes his space.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m gonna use my right to go and get on you now.”

“Okay.”

Upon realizing she had no idea what that meant, Layla cocked her head to the side a little. Clementine mimicked the motion almost perfectly. 

“What is that?” she asked.

“It’s this thing guys do when they wanna get with a lady they like. And you’re really pretty. So I want you to marry me.”

Layla cooed, rested her hand against her breast like she was touched. “Well, sir, what does this entail?”

He took out a League card, held it out for her to take. It was Leon’s.

“First, you gotta give a gift. Usually, it’s an Applin or somethin’ you value but I only have a Wooloo and all the Applins live in the tall grass my parents won’t let me in. So take my favorite League card.”

“Oh my. This must be very valuable to you. Are you sure about this?”

“Mhm. If I ask Milo, he’ll get another for me.”

“Aw. Are you a fan of Milo too?”

“Yeah! He’s super strong and nice to everyone.”

“Really? Is he nice to you?”

“Yeah! He’s always carrying us around like we’re sacks of wheat. And he lets all of us hang off his arms. He’s really strong. I bet he could bend a car in half.”

That’s impossible for any human - even him. But Milo took the compliments to heart. Oh, his little heart soared. Finally! He might be cool!

“I see. Well, that’s good to hear. My grandma is a big fan of him too.”

“Are you a fan of Milo too?”

“Now I am.” And she glanced at the flowers in her hand.

Milo’s heart fluttered in his chest. He had to press his hand to the middle of his breast to make sure his heart wasn't going to fly out. She's a fan. _She_ is a fan of _him_.

“Yay! Here ya go.” And he passed her the League Card.

Layla took it, smiled sweetly. “Thank you very much. Now, what’s next?”

“I gotta challenge ya to do something. Like a race or arm-wrestling or something like that.”

“I see. So, what’s on the plate?”

“Uh, I was gonna challenge ya to a Pokemon battle but I don’t think I’m gonna win.” And he and his buddies set their sights on Clementine.

“Then let me fight for you.”

There was a lot that could be said about Milo’s family, especially his father. People half-joked, half-truly-thought Roark of Lakeside Ranch should be the real mayor of Turffield. The real mayor was a jackass, only there because the title was passed by blood. But he had the true spirit of a leader. Whatever he said was law. Any Pokemon could gawk at him for a bit and instantly respect him. Milo thought he was the truest Turfie to ever live.

Whatever occupations his progeny picked, they were good at it. The three middle brothers were good at sowing the land and business management. So that’s what they did. The eldest sister was good at animal-handling. So that’s what she did. The youngest brother and twins were good at fixing anything and everything. So that’s what they did. Milo was, well, good at everything argicultural. So that’s what he did.

Still, that didn’t mean any of them acted in any shape or form like their father.

That was his philosophy - work first, personality second. So he didn’t give a shit about whatever they were doing so long as they did their work first. So Roark liked to ignore the fact that he single-handedly raised seven jackasses and one miracle child. One could guess who was the miracle easily.

So the town quickly went with not calling the five brothers by their names but instead by their well-earned titles. Which one, someone would ask. The this or the that, someone would reply. And Sage of Lakeside Ranch was the liar.

Milo always felt the "hot gene" skipped him and went straight to the siblings which followed his birth. Sage, the second eldest of the children, was the pretty boy of the family. Mum’s squinted hazel eyes, Dad’s tree bark brown hair and serious brows, tall, lean, muscular; the best combination of their parents’ genes. Yet he was much more infamous for lying his way into getting what he wanted. A deal, another pint at Beer or Pie, a woman in bed with him. Milo was too young to watch the bad habit of his develop the way he witnessed the much younger of their siblings did their own. Sage surprisingly started doing this before Milo became Gym Leader - and consequently Turffield’s knight in shining armor. It would make more sense if it started afterward. A cry for attention! That would explain it. Still, because Sage was an extrovert and handsome even as a boy, he got much more attention from their parents than Milo even did to that day.

Folks joked he was the boy who cried wolf over everything. Milo knew as he grew older and wiser that Sage disguised his battles with anxiety and awkwardness behind flirty stares and fib upon fib.

There was some good in him of course. He had the family’s shared courageousness, made sure every task was done when given to him even if it meant plowing soil in the dark. He was an excellent businessman; witty on top of that. And he was great at mathematics. Regardless, he was still a liar and a liar he would always be according to Small Town Logic Section Bite-His-Ass.

He also claimed he was a better Trainer than Milo but that was complete horseshit.

“Who are you?” Layla asked.

“I’m Sage, Gym Leader Milo’s brother.” He gave her that stupid, "sexy" smirk of his.

She gave him a funny look. “Wait… Who’s the adopted one?”

Milo let out a snort. How could anyone ask that with such confidence?

“N-Neither. I swear, we're related. And no half-brother b.s.."

"Are you sure? Or is this one of these small-town secrets?"

"No, damnit! He's my brother!"

"Oh... Hm. Then why are you named after an herb?"

Sage wanted to hit his head up against a tree. Milo was trying his hardest not to laugh out loud.

"H-How am I supposed to know? And hey, I'm not the only one. Milo's named after a flower."

"Well, then that suits him since he's a wonderful florist." And she took a glance at the flowers in her hand again. "But clearly you have a bad name considering you're anything but a sage."  


"I don't get it," Sage admitted.

"You've got to be an idiot to just waltz up to me, break into my conversation with these gentlemen-" And she looked at the boys, smiled. Then frowned hard at Sage. "-And start shouting you're a Gym Leader's brother. Is that all you have going on for you?"

"Hey! I’m a better battler than him. I bet I could beat the Champion if I tried hard enough.”

_ Horseshit! _ Milo shrieked in his noggin.

She, fortunately, caught on to his scheme quickly. She gave him an uh-huh with a cocked eyebrow and hand on her hip.

“So unless you’re too scared, fight me. If I win, you’ll yada-yada with the kid—“ And he waved his hand dismissively at the boys, offending them. “—and go on a date with me - Turffield’s Most Eligible Bachelor. If you win, well, you can do whatever you want to me.”

Some of the younger women in the crowd sighed blissfully, imagining being in Layla’s shoes. Ew.

Layla gave it some thought though and she came to an expert conclusion. “ _Mmmm_ no.”

Sage thought he mistook her so he asked, “Pardon?”

“No.”

“What?”

“ _ No. _ I don’t want to go on a date with you and I’d ask you to throw yourself off a cliff if I could choose what to do to you.”

Sage was trying to get his jaw off the ground.

“But I’m Turffield’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”

“... Are you sure? I mean, I would assume the big, handsome ball of sunshine Gym Leader would be… Unless he’s not single.”

“Oh, he can’t make a girlfriend outta wool, much less flesh and blood.”

Milo didn’t give a damn about the diss. No. He cared much more about the fact the new girl in town thought he was even remotely attractive. Him - a knotted-up Tangela of a human being; someone thought he was handsome.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to leap for joy or crawl into a ditch.

“Oh dear. Regardless, I’m not battling a grown man who would push aside a child just so he can fulfill whatever selfish desires he has - even if it is a beat-down.”

Sage cocked a brow, floated his hand near the Pokéball in his holster. “Well, what if I am?”

“No shame at all, huh? Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I might as well use you as an example.”

“For what?”

“What happens when you don’t play nice with me. Let’s not do this here. Cleo knows how to battle without causing damage but you seem like the hurricane short.”

“Sure am. C’mon, babe. Let’s rock.”

Milo couldn’t see the look on her face but he had a feeling it was pure rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the land is warming up after months of chills. It is concerning, considering the pandemic is still going strong. I take my baby sister out for walks and see people without protective gear on, acting like everything is back to normal. It's not.  
> In fact, the normal we once knew doesn't exist anymore. As a person who would have become a historian if I did not make the leap and go to art school, it is fascinating to live in a time when history is being made. It is not just the noteworthy things for the history textbooks. It is the way we dress, socialize. It is the way we communicate and consume and create.  
> Overall, I am still scared. But I am not without knowledge. Keep up with the news, tune out the bullshit, and keep on living life. And document as many things as you can. Mask selfies, diary entries, anything at all. We are living in a new world now. Keeping records of the past can change the way how future generations see our times.  
> Stay safe, won't you?


	10. Float

Saoirse of Lakeside Ranch debated whether she should clobber her liar of a son or not. He showed up, unannounced like most of her children, with City Girl and a crowd of gawking idiots at her door.

“We’re gonna use the docks as a field for our battle, Mum. I promise to not make a mess.”

The whole thing’ll be a wreck by the end of it. Still, she allowed it.

Saoirse rarely admitted she lived vicariously through her eldest boy. She had this natural attraction to battling she only wrote about in her many journals throughout her life. She dreamt for a while of going on a Pokémon journey with only her Pichu and knapsack. Then she met Roark and she threw that all away bittersweetly. When Milo went on his journey years ago, she was pissed but overjoyed for him. He did what she never could so she was proud.

As she thought of her Milo, he appeared. As Sage, City Girl, and the crowd headed down towards the lake, he ran up to her, apologized left and right for letting this happen.

“You couldn’t help it,” she noted.

He gave it some thought before he nodded. “Yeah. You see that Lucario with the city girl?”

“No.”

“You gotta. He’s gorgeous, calm - well-trained for work. You might just want to hire him.”

“Why should I when I’ve got eight good farmhands already?” And she pinched his cheek.

“Mum,” he moaned, embarrassed.

She let go, patted the sore spot gently. “Well, will you be escorting me to your brother’s execution or are we looking at that new girl being a full-out jackass?”

“Any of the kiddies could grab a Wooloo and win in a battle with him.”

She nodded. “Right you are.”

Saoirse shut the door behind her hard. It needed to be repaired but she didn’t need Milo running over to help all the time. Milo offered his elbow to her, beaming in that charming way that reminded her of his father. She tucked her arm around his, smiled.

* * *

The Stonjourner Lakes were what Milo called the hidden gem of his hometown. Surrounded by Stonjourner Wood, the legend went that Dialga and Palkia had a football game with a disastrous end. They used the sun as the ball and one of them shot too far. It bounced against the earth four times before it was stopped by a Stonjourner. It kicked the sun back up into the heavens and went about its day as if nothing happened. The earth carved up from the kick created the lake and three springs dotting past the lake like a bouncing ball leaving its mark on the world. Milo was blessed to have grown up with his bedroom window overlooking such natural beauty. And sometimes, he regretted buying Meadowland just because it was so far away from the lake that gave all four bodies of water their name.

The area hosted a menagerie of Pokémon species. Lotads and Tympoles floated on the water’s surface. Deep below, Arrokudas and Basculins fought. Pidove and Rookiedee alike soared the sky above. Residents of Stonjourner Wood came to the waters to quench their thirst and to play with any who wished to join them.

The Lakeside children would be frequent playmates with them. Wooloos who jumped into the water acted as buoys they had to learn to swim to. Meowths chased them through the cedar trees. Pichakus zapped them for funsies (they were adorably rotten bastards sometimes). Milo met his Lotad on the shoreline. His Seedot fell from a tree and landed right on his noggin. And he met his bestest friend, his lovely Eldegoss, on the dock Sage was about to destroy. Again.

Lakeside’s farmland ended abruptly behind a fence that stood mere yards away from the shoreline. His parents’ bedroom could see the docks from the lone window in there. That way, along with the office on the other side of the hall, all the entrances to the farm could be seen from inside the house. It was an ingenious move on his ancestors’ part. The docks were made of cedar which fell during the occasional bad storm and Pokémon bickering gone awry. Whoever broke it last had to fix it. And the last time was Sage. He was shit with carpentry so it moaned and groaned in a ghastly way.

“Mum, you wanna ref?” Sage asked.

“Hell no. Lo will.”

Milo sighed. Of course. But if his mother asked, he must do so. He let go of her, headed through the crowd, and stepped onto the docks.

He couldn't help staring at Layla. They met two nights ago in that meadow only a few kilometers away from where they stood. It felt right for her to be by nature more than man because of his association with her and that evening in the woods. Thus, she wasn’t out of place standing on the dock. She wasn’t out of place being a member of the Lakeside family.

“Oh? You’re here too?” Layla asked.

“Yeah. I overheard something about a Pokémon battle and I couldn’t resist.”

“I see. Well, I hope you don’t bully me too much. I’m not good at battling.”

He remembered their conversation in the woods, her mentioning she trained Pokémon only for show. And he smiled while thinking of how she looked almost abashed by revealing that information.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. The only bully in this family is this one.” And he pointed his thumb at Sage.

“Watch your mouth,” Sage barked.

“Watch yours. Now, let’s get this battle over with. One Pokémon only and don’t make this all day.” Milo immediately winced, thought he sounded like a demanding slave-driver so he added a meep of a “please” after some consideration.

“Fine, fine.”

Sage took the Pokéball he was reaching for earlier, sent out Ears.

“Heya, chap!” Sage greeted with glittering eyes and a big, cheesy grin. “Wanna fight, bubby?”

Ears nodded and trilled.

“Oh my gosh, is that a Bunnelby?” Layla cooed, her face lighting up.

“Yeah. Ears.”

“Ears… Ears?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he’s got the big ol’ ears.” And he crouched down and gave Ears’s ears a little flop.

She covered her heart, sighed like a mother at her adorable angel of a child. “Oh, he’s too cute.”

“Right? I have three more of the buggers and if I find more, I'll catch ‘em. Bunnies are the cutest.”

“They sure are.”

Clementine looked almost jealous of the rabbit Pokémon. Layla noticed, patted him on the head.

“You’re still my favorite cutie though,” she reminded.

Cleo shut his eyes in bliss. Oh god, Milo desperately wanted to pet him.

“Alright. It’s time to go off-duty.”

Clementine held his right paw up. Milo’s view was blocked while the two were in his shop so he didn’t see the white ribbon tied around his paw until then. She quickly pulled it off, gave him an encouraging pat on his head.

“Go get him, tiger.”

The Lucario nodded, walked until he stood like a stone wall before her.

“Steel-types are weak against Ground. Are you sure about this?” Sage asked with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You’ll be eating your words soon enough.”

Milo’s interest was piqued of course. That little bit of smack-talk just before a match always got him going. It was the Trainer in him who came out. He couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering in his chest, the beginning of a grin forming on his lips.

“Alright. Match - start!”

Sage almost didn’t let his brother finish. “Use Take Down! Go for the knock-out now.”

Ears dug his heels into the wood below his feet, shook his butt to build up inertia. Then he shot like a rocket at Clementine.

“Upper-cut him! Use Power-Up Punch!”

And it was then that Milo remembered that Lucarios were Fighting-types. Why didn't he remember before? He kept on thinking of Bea, the newbie Fighting-type Leader, when he saw Clementine. Layla even said it earlier when talking with the boy who was trying to woo her with a League card.

Regardless, the match was set before it began.

Clementine masterfully side-stepped the charge, built up white-hot energy in his paw, and socked the poor thing in his stomach. All in a matter of milliseconds.

Ears wasn’t hurt by the attack. Instead, the aftershocks of it made his fur bristle. The bunny was  _ pissed _ .

“Keep it going, sweetie,” Layla commanded.

And the dog went off without needing much more instruction from her. Instead, Sage was on the plate to keep Ears in check.

“Dodge it and use Bulldoze!”

Ears jumped off the dock and onto the earth nearby. The crowd practically ran right up next to the ranch’s fence, trying to get as far away from the bugger as possible. Tommy kept himself right where he was. Clementine noticed.

Ears kicked up the earth in one hard stomp, sent it like a tsunami at the Lucario. Clementine grabbed Tommy by the scruff of his shirt and tossed him at Milo. Milo caught the kid of course. Not hurt. Instead, thrilled that he just got thrown around like an Applin looking for trouble. Clementine took a direct hit from the attack. He was flung off the dock and into the lake.

Gasps came from the onlookers. Then the world fell quiet as everyone waited… and waited… and waited…

Clementine didn't rise back up from the water.

Sage dove into the lake without a second thought. Tommy and his friends ran to the edge of the dock, mortified.

Tommy asked, “Why isn’t your Lucario coming back up?”

“Steel-types don’t float in water like we do,” Layla answered, calm as a summer breeze. "They have steel bones so they sink in water."

The boys gasped, tears filling their eyes.

“Is he gonna die?”

“No, no. Clementine here likes to—“

Sage shot back out of the water, Clementine in his arms with confusion in his expression. Sage pushed Clementine back onto the dock, followed. He coughed and coughed and coughed while the Lucario watched as if the roles were reversed.

“I don’t wanna give mouth-to-mouth to a Pokémon I just met.”

“You don’t say that about girls,” Tommy noted.

Sage gave him a look then set his attention on Clementine. All the color left his face as he stared at the bipedal dog dripping all over the damn dock he constantly had to fix.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked.

He nodded, wagged his tail, and shut his eyes like he was meditating in some way.

“Cleo, I told you to stop doing that,” Layla scolded, “You’re going to actually drown one day from your thematics.”

Cleo did not open his eyes.

“He’s such a drama queen. When he falls into water, he fake-drowns to make me worried. Because whenever something bad happens, I give him treats to make up for it.”

Milo looked at the Pokémon almost in awe. So, the parent is the child.

“I’m so sorry for this,” Layla apologized to Sage, fretting over him, “God, you’re all wet.”

“You’ll be too soon.” And Sage dared to wink after saying that.

And Layla took a moment to comprehend what he just said. And she turned to Clementine and said, “Throw him in and you’ll get snack.”

And the Lucario was already grabbing Sage by his belt loops and tossing him over the dock. He fell face-first into the lake. When he rose back up to the water’s surface, he was gasping, spitting out water.

Layla looked down upon him like Arceus passing judgment upon a mortal. “No means no. Talk to me like that again and I’ll knock your teeth out. Capiche?”

And she didn’t let him answer. She walked away, the crowd parting for her. She and Clementine went from which they came, steam practically coming out of the former’s ears.

Sage got out of the lake, back on to the dock, and acted like he wasn’t sopping wet again.

“What's her damage?” he scoffed.

“You’re joking, right?” Milo had to ask.

“Why would I be?”

_ “Sage!” _

Their mother shot through the crowd like an Electrike after a target. She stood on her tippy-toes, grabbed the liar of her sons by the ears, and pulled him down to her petite height. He hissed and hissed and hissed at the pain.

“You’re supposed to be the liar, not the shit-for-brains,” she scolded. “How could you do something like that?”

“I thought all city girls were into that.”

And Saoirse let go and looked at him funny.

“What,” she said more than asked.

“Y-Yeah. A comedian said that all city girls are into that sort of thing. They like flings and one-hit wonders.”

And Saoirse put her face in her hands, trying to summon up the power to not end the life of the child she gave birth to. And Sage turned to Milo, sorely confused.

“What?”

“You… You took advice from a comedian?” Milo croaked.

“Yeah… You know, now that you say that aloud, that doesn’t sound too hot, doesn’t it?”

And Milo took off his hat and put his face into it. He wanted to scream.

“Don’t talk to me for the next week,” Saoirse warned, “Just don’t. Make it a month if you don’t fix this.”

And she walked away, the crowd dispersing as she did.

“What did I do?” Sage wondered.

“Make us look like bumpkins.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Oh no, you did. You took advice from a comedian - who’s probably misogynistic because you just love that sort of humor - and used it to send a relatively nice woman packing.”

“She’s not going to leave just because of that.”

And Milo crossed his arms and gave him a look.

“... Okay, she might. Still, I don’t see how I’m in the wrong here. She’s the one who overreacted and got her hell-dog to chuck me in there.”

“Yes, but she did that only after you refused to listen to her and forced her to battle. Is it that shocking that someone isn’t drooling all over you for once in your life?”

“Tough words coming from you.”

And Milo’s jaw started to hurt upon hearing that.

“My duty as a Gym Leader has nothing to do with this. You need to apologize to her. She didn’t deserve your behavior today.”

“Well, if she gets to say no, so do I.”

And Milo was honestly flabbergasted.

“And I’ll make it up to her somehow.”

And Sage put Ears back in his Pokéball and left, not giving a damn about how stupid he looked.

“What an asshole.”

Tommy and his friends had witnessed the whole thing and were seemingly calm about the circumstances.

“Watch your mouth,” Milo gently chided, “But… you’re right. I’m surprised. You know he doesn’t act like this usually.”

“Yeah… Is it gonna be my fault if the pretty lady leaves?”

Milo’s heart hurt. Children always had the stellar ability to blame themselves for everything. He hated that - so much.

“No. You did nothing wrong. You showed the best side of Turffield.”

And Tommy smiled and looked at his Charizard shirt sadly.

“Leon would go check on her, right?”

“Mhm. I’m going to around noon. Why don’t you join me? Her house is in Cottage Hill with a morning gl— Uh. Purple door.”

“Okay! Thank you, Milo.”

And it was the cue for him and the buddies to leave but they stayed put.

“Is there something else you need?”

“Yeah. The pats.”

And Milo furrowed his brow until he realized what they meant. He chuckled softly, smiled at their silliness.

“Alright.”

And Milo gave a gentle pat to each of the boys’ heads. They even lined up to get them.

“Now, go and get to work already. Your mothers aren’t going to be yelling at me about you skipping work to go Wooloo Bowling.”

They nodded and went on their way. Milo let out a sigh and turned to the lake. Something bumped against the dock. He looked down, picked it up out of the water.

An inhaler. The name on it was rubbed off. He didn't know what to do with it except tuck it in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am free from the chains of college for the summer! Hurray! Time to write and relax and do a lot of things I've been neglecting. I hope all of you are well.
> 
> Also please. Please don't follow the advice of comedians.
> 
> Also, promising again that Sage isn't a bad guy. He's just... going through stuff right now. Also, a jackass. But he's a nice guy. He'll get developed and his behavior will be explained - not excused.


	11. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Fixed a couple of things here and there involving the grammar. I usually do pretty well involving it but I was reading it over and discovered a couple of boo-boos. Also broke up some of the dialogue since this is a super dialogue heavy chapter. There is some new additions to the text too but it's not too important!

Afternoon sun made the air waft in waves above the scorching dirt and pavement. Farmers would faint in such conditions. The usual lunch break was extended to three hours that day. It would allot Milo enough time to do what he needed to do and shove that sandwich in his fridge down his pie hole. First come first was Layla. Even his Eldegoss reminded him to go and do his task despite how much he wanted to avoid it.

It was tradition in Turffield that if you want guests, you leave your front door open. And Layla’s morning glory purple door was wide open. Her home was a sunbaked stone and mortar heat-sponge like all of the homes nearer to town center. It was the first time he noticed the morning glories climbing and blooming up and across the outside to the second-floor windows. He found it ironic of course. He did remember thinking she looked like the flowering vines. It was odd too. He had seen them throughout his childhood whenever he visited the cosmopolitan elderly couple who lived and died there. Why was he finally taking note of their presence?

He went up the doorstep and to the door frame. He peered inside for a moment, hoped to find her so she could let him in. He heard her voice straining from afar but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her.

“Layla?” he asked into the abyss.

Something slammed onto something from afar. Layla let out an ouch and moan.

Milo decided he might just have to come inside without her permission. What if she was in danger? He would be the only one who could help her, right?

Her home radiated warmth - something he would get addicted to quickly. This warmth wasn’t heat per se. Heat was an actual temperature such as the one in the fan-less home. Warmth was something he got from a hug from his mum or sisters, a familiar bowl of rarebit and mushroom stew, firecrackers his brothers nearly got their fingers blown off to have set the sky neon and bright. Warmth was familiarity. And he would become familiar with her home very quickly.

He took a glance into the living room and it already looked beyond cozy. Warm throw blankets and soft pillows on the sofa and lounge chairs in there. The fireplace would come in handy during the winter. Turffield didn’t have a merciless winter but it still had a winter. On the mantle were various photos put into photo frames and a white box Milo couldn’t see the details of. Paintings of spring landscapes and flowering trees covered the wooden walls. He would kill to snuggle up in there.

The entryway had a coat rack, a few unused hooks, and a bench surrounded by shoes for dainty feet. The sandals she was wearing the night they met were there. He noticed the doormat below his feet then and the gorgeous, probably freshly waxed mahogany flooring. Because he respected her, he wiped his paws at the door. He even questioned taking his boots off. Then he wondered if his feet smelled. He didn’t need to find out. He kept them on.

Right next to the entryway was the staircase that seemingly divided the hallway in half. The banister was freshly waxed but the stairs weren’t. He then remembered there was moss green carpeting there before. Maybe Layla didn’t like it? Or maybe it was soiled beyond repair. The old folks before her did many renovations to the house before they passed but what they accomplished was a mystery.

Beyond the staircase were three doors and a cupboard covered in lace doilies and more framed pictures. One was of Layla with shorter hair with a cloudy-eyed Riolu and an old woman under a wisteria tree. Was it taken in Kalos? He had a feeling it was. Another was of her with a bunch of pretty women wearing Pokémon Center Nurse uniforms. She would have made a good nurse. She looked absolutely to die for in her uniform. The last was a picture of who he assumed was her family - a mother, father, older brother and sister, and a set of grandparents. Layla stuck out like a sore thumb. She didn’t look like any of them. In every photo, Layla radiated hope and joy like a sunflower facing the sun. She was always beautiful.

“Milo?”

Milo turned left. There stood Layla, clutching her head in one hand and the bunched-up hem of her dress in the other. Her visible knee was dusted in dirt and dust.

Milo greeted her quickly then asked, “Are you alright? I heard a bang just now.”

“Oh, that was me,” she admitted, “I banged my head under my porch.”

He hissed out, “ _Ouch._ Are you hurt?”

“Nope. At most, I'll get a headache out of this.” And she cracked up.

He let out a sigh, smiled. At least she wasn't injured. 

“Why were you under there anyway? Is there something wrong with your pipes?”

“No, no. I discovered a Scorbunny made its nest there. I was hoping to coax it out but it’s being so stubborn. No carrot or vegetable in the world will get the poor thing out.”

“Hm. Try kicking rocks at it.”

She looked appalled at him at first. Then her face lit up, a grin making its way there. “Right. Because Scorbunnies are naturally inclined to kick them back.”

“Mhm. They’d make great footballers.”

She snorted at that. “I see. You’re right. Oh, I wish I had studied more about Fire-Types in university. My specialization was Grass-types.”

His heart skipped a beat. She went to school and studied all day long about his favorite Pokémon-Type? Oh, she was a keeper. Then he remembered he couldn't. Still, he had to ask her about it - anything at all.

“What’s your favorite Grass-Type?” he stuttered out.

“Leafeons. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

He would jump out of his boots and bounce up and down her hallway if he could. He _loved_ Leafeons. Who couldn't? The way their bodies sway like leaves in a spring breeze, the natural elegance and poise. Plus, they smelled great - which was a big reason he liked Grass-types in general. He loved his Wooloos but they could get proper stinky. His battling team, though, never smelled worse than a dandelion. Regardless, he contained his excitement. He didn't need to embarrass himself.

“Yeah. I’ve always meant to catch one but it’s a battle in itself to keep one in a Pokéball long enough.”

“Ugh! But they’ll be worth it, right?”

“Always are. They make everything smell great all the time.”

"They sure do."

Silence filled the air and prevented them from keeping the conversation going. 

“Y’know, why are you here?”

“Oh, right. Um.” He came up with some bullshit. “I forgot to mention the rule about the doors here and I thought I’d tell you since I happened to see yours open.”

“Rule?”

“Open doors means anyone can come in as a guest. And I mean anyone. Closed mean folks should knock. And locked— Well, that’s pretty obvious.”

“I see. So because my door was open, you thought—“

“Yeah.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t mind having you come in. I’m baking some scones and if you want some, you sure can.”

He didn’t mean to stay but he couldn’t refuse a scone when he smelled one. He sniffed the air just to make sure. Oh yeah. Those were scones alright; making his belt want to come off and his stomach expand three times its size.

Yep. He was staying for tea.

He headed into what was the result of the biggest renovation project for that dead couple. The entire back wall of the kitchen and dining room was modern windows now, foldable like a screen and pushed to the side at the moment to let the breeze in. Beyond the threshold was a long, narrow backyard. There was the beginning of a big hole in the back of it, making sure to not disturb the hydrangea bushes against the fence. To the right side was an empty garden just waiting to be used. To the left was grass-covered space, perfect for Cleo to run around in. Overlooking all of it was a swinging bench with an abandoned book on its seat.

The kitchen sported the kind of antique stove and oven his family home had but had recently been painted white. The sage green counters and butcher’s block looked brand new though. The deep sink had a fancy gold faucet too. The dining room area had a small circular table with two small seats. On top of the table were a steeping teapot and an Alola souvenir mug filled with tea.

“Well, you found yourself a beauty of a place, huh?” Milo complimented.

Layla reached up into a cupboard and took down two mugs, began considering them. “Aw, thanks. I’m finding more and more things I love about the property. I can’t help thinking that I'm going to be super lucky for now on.”

Cleo hurried down the stairs, dashed into the kitchen and gave Milo something like a full-body scan with his eyes. God, he was right about this Lucario being her father. Arceus was passing judgment on Milo every time Cleo stared at him. He reeked of hydrogen peroxide, worsening the fear.

“H-Hi again, Cleo. How are you?”

Cleo’s tail wagged. He ignored Milo and went over to the oven to sit like a monk in front of the door. Layla set the winner, a simple white one with gold trim on top, on the dining table and put the losing mug back in the cupboard.

“He thinks sitting in front of the oven will make the snacks come out sooner,” she filled in, “It’s extremely silly and I haven’t the courage to tell him the truth.”

Milo’s heart soared. All of her Pokémon had to be adorable. They just had to. And she looked mighty adorable today too. He had to take off his hat. Oh, his whole body was overheating.

“Do you want me to try to get that Scorbunny out from under there?”

“You don’t-”

And he was already heading into the backyard. She decided to follow, grabbing a handful of chopped up carrots and crouching next to Milo. He bent down, looked under the porch. Lo and behold, there was the world’s dirtiest Scorbunny hiding in a makeshift nest. It was jittery, wide-eyed. He worried it was possibly emaciated.

“Poor thing,” Layla said, “He’s been shaking like that every time I see him. He’s got to be sick with something.”

“Now that you mention that, I remember Kabu telling me that Scorbunnies groom themselves almost as often as Purrloins do. Yet this one looks like a Yamper after a rainy day.”

Milo found a pebble quickly. He got off the ground, set the pebble right in front of his foot. With as much force as he could muster, he kicked the pebble towards the Scorbunny. The pebble returned with a vengeance, nearly knocking his ankle clean off his leg. Milo grimaced, hissed, hopped to go sit down on the porch. Holy fuck, that hurt.

“Are you alright?” Layla asked.

“Yeah. Just— Alright, the bunny’s probably got nothing worse than a cold. If it was on the verge of seeing the pearly gates, it wouldn’t have kicked back.”

“Right. So for right now, it’s just nervous… Hm. This is going to be a project.”

Milo imagined Layla rolling up her sleeves and putting a bandana over her head to ready herself for said project. Layla bent down and put the carrots nearby the Scorbunny.

“Eat when you can, sweetie. We can chat about your future accommodations later.”

She got up and smiled. She then ran back into the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack out of her freezer. She gave it to Milo and he immediately put it on his ankle.

“So, you’re going the traditional route,” Milo noted.

“Mhm. Who isn’t food-motivated?”

A timer buzzed and shrieked. Layla ran and turned it off. Cleo moved out of the way, giving his Trainer more than enough space to work her magic. Then she put oven mitts on her hands and got the scones out quickly. She picked them off the plate with a spatula, set them on a cooling rack, and left them on the windowsill over the sink. Once she finished her task, the mitts returned to their hook and she returned to the backyard. Cleo watched the scones with hopeful eyes and wagging tail.

“Speaking of food-motivated,” Milo joked.

Layla giggled. “They’re Pecha and Roseli. Is that alright?”

“Absolutely.”

She beamed bright as the morning sun at him. He felt fuzzy inside.

Despite how much he wanted to stop his silly feelings, he couldn’t help liking such a pretty smile.

* * *

Layla set the plate of scones down on the table. Next to the plate was a jar of a red jam (Milo could probably guess what it was if he sniffed it), a ramekin full of clotted cream, and a steeping pot of tea. Before Milo and Layla’s spot at the table were the most delicate dishware he had ever seen.

She sat down in her chair, grinned. “Dig in."

He nodded yet he couldn’t help but wait. She would think he was being gentlemanly but he was waiting so he could watch her eat. He just had to know. Was she going to keep up this image he had of her or was it all just a façade?

She broke off a bit of the scone first, popped it in her mouth. She then smiled such a goofy smile. Who could smile like that? What the hell.

“It’s really good,” she said.

“Clearly. I’ve never seen anyone get so excited over scones before.”

She let out one of her cutesy giggles, looked away and played with her fingers. She looked like she wanted to respond but she found she couldn’t find the right words. He wanted to tell her she looked kissable right now but he hadn’t the nerve. He wouldn't dare.

“Have one, if you’d like.”

He picked one up, took off a corner, popped it in his mouth. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. That was the best damn scone he ever had in his entire life.

“I was wondering…”

He was about to shove the rest of the scone in his mouth when she started that off. He put it down on his plate, hoping she didn’t see him look like some ravenous beast.

“Why are you _actually_ here? It can’t just be about the door.”

He gulped, geared himself up. “Um. Well. That is. Because. I can’t apologize enough for how awful my brother was earlier.”

“Oh. Right.” And she scowled just at the thought of what happened only a few hours prior.

“I— Everyone in town’s real worried you're gonna up and go after that whole mess. We’re real—“

Layla cracked up. Milo shut up.

“You think I’m going to move away after something like that? C’mon! Who do you take me for?”

A flower goddess who came to town to make his world beautiful. Also definitely someone who could walk away from a boring place like Turffield.

Once she realized he wasn’t laughing, Layla stopped her laughing.

“Is this a thing? Do people just leave at the first sign of trouble?”

Milo nodded. “There’s nothing out here for anyone anymore. So when we get a newcomer, it’s rare they stay longer than a season.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry for laughing.”

“It’s fine. You have a right to. All of this is silly. But a lot of folks just aren’t interested in investing in a place that might give them trouble. The first sign of anyone acting like a hick and they’re gone.”

She played with her hands shyly yet she stared dead into his eyes. “I’ll definitely be staying here. Nothing like that will make me run away. Now, finish your scone already. Unless, they came out bad.”

“No. _No_. They're incredible.”

“Really?”

He nodded, finally popped the whole thing in his mouth, and ate it with a speed he didn’t know he had. She surprisingly didn’t gasp in horror. Instead, she looked thrilled at his disgusting eating habits. 

“I’m glad you like them. I was so worried I burned them.”

“No-- Really. They’re so moist and soft. I don’t need any cream or jam.”

“Oh! Thank you so much.”

If she asked him to eat five hundred, no matter how it hurt, he’d do it if he could get her to smile like that again.

“I’m sorry but I can’t accept your apology.”

And Milo was genuinely worried about why she refused.

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I overheard your brother’s opinion on all of this. You shouldn’t be apologizing for his actions, especially if he refuses to himself.”

“But I have to. He’s not a bad person but he was just— awful today.”

“Still, I can’t accept it.”

Layla turned to Clementine who was sitting on the porch munching his scone while wagging his tail.

“The steel bands around Cleo’s arms are his bones protruding from his body; like antlers but they won’t regenerate. Regardless, they're open to easy infection. So I have to painstakingly disinfect each and every band or else Cleo could get sick. I only have him and my other buddy as friends here. If I were to lose him, I don’t know how I would breathe. So if I have to waste an hour doing it, I’ll do it.”

She set her attention on the teapot and the delicate paisley pattern on it.

“I also don’t particularly like that folks walk up to me and demand my time as if I have nothing to do all day but to serve them. I’ve grown tired of being seen just for my face and body. I have a personality; goals and dreams. I hate Cheri berries and I could eat Pechas until I get sick. I love the sky and its ever-changing colors and I’m beginning to love living here. I have a Master’s degree - summa cum laude too - in one of the hardest sciences to study. And very few people seem to care about that. They just see an object. So no, I’m not accepting your apology until I get it from the horse's mouth.”

Milo played with his hands. The tips of his ears burned. He couldn’t look her in the eye if he tried.

“I’m sorry.”

That got a guffaw out of her. “What for? You look like you got caught stealing or something.”

“... I just think I should.”

She sighed softly. He dared to look at her smiling lips.

“I see. Well, at least you’ve been polite about it.”

He nodded softly. He thought he was getting a fever at that point in the day.

She let out a song of a sigh and said, "I know I'm beautiful, Milo."

And Milo knew then that he couldn’t just let his feelings for her go. They stuck their thorns deep inside his chest. He and his acceptance of always being a groomsman were at each other's throats from then on. Because didn't want to be single anymore. He wanted to be with her, get to know every little thing about her. How did her voice sound when she woke up in the morning? What did she do to make her hair so shiny? What made her laugh until her gut hurt? All because she stated with such confidence, almost impatience, that she knew she was the gorgeous woman she was. She was smarter than he'd ever be. There was no competition in who looked better between the two of them. And she spoke like the sky - gentle most days but thundering when treated badly - compared to his passive, wavering little voice. And he loved that.

He loved her.

Shit.

The League wasn't going to like this - not one bit. But Milo had suddenly grown tired of being their goodie-goodie-two-shoes. He could get in trouble just once. And they gave mercy to the other leaders for their "mistakes". They could let this slide. He needed to worry about being in her league more than the League right then. 

“I’m not creeped out by you being nice to me or anything because of that. It’s nothing new. And Cleo seems to like you so I know you don’t have any ulterior motives.”

“He does?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s been glaring at me. Are you sure?”

She snorted. “If he didn’t like you, he would have punched you already.”

And his anxiety settled in a second. “Right… You remind me of Nessa.”

“Hm?”

He nodded. “She… thinks a lot like you. She’s so confident in her looks that I’m honestly a little intimidated. But she has a lot of problems with… suitors if you get what I’m saying.”

“Yes, I do,” she added mirthlessly.

“Yeah. I figured you might. Whenever we’re in Wyndon together, she makes me take her back to her hotel. And I’ve seen all sorts of guys get too close to her. We can’t fight back when fans get touchy-feely. It’s in the rule book too so if we get caught standing up for ourselves, the committee won’t give us mercy. So she just freezes up and it’s— honestly, I see it and I’m sorry for letting my brother act like that today. I promise he’s a good person.”

And Milo's heart sunk. Because he just told someone something no one should know about the League. He let a secret slip to a complete stranger. She was so, so bad for him but she made him feel so, so good. He couldn't get in trouble for one little slip-up, right?

Right?

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions. And I’m not upset at you.”

“... Are you sure?”

And he was finally able to look at her again and whatever expression he had on him at the moment made her seemingly melt from worry.

“Yes. My grandmother is a very good judge of character. She wouldn’t like you as much as she does if she thought you were capable of any malice.”

Milo smiled softly at that. The idea that an old woman from afar was silently judging him - and liking him after said judgment - warmed his little heart.

“Well. That’s nice to know,” he admitted.

“Now, stiff upper lip— or something. You look like I kicked you or something.” And she pouted.

“Right.”

He stuffed another scone in his mouth to end the conversation. She took a sip of the tea in her cup, sighed.

Silence settled down at the table, sipped the tea there. Layla loaded up her scone with cream and jam, nibbled it the way a Skwovet would a berry. Milo went through three by the time she went through one. He did not realize how damn hungry he was. He forced himself to stop to drink some of the tea. Oh. Oh, that was a good blend too. His sisters would like it. They hated the hard, smoky black teas their parents usually kept in stock at the house. They always begged Milo to make tea for them because he always kept gentle white teas in his pockets. Odd habit, he knew, but his mother always said that if he wanted something different, he needed to get it himself. And he hated black tea too but he dare not complain about the blessings he has in life. He had no right.

Layla looked up from her teacup, embarrassed almost. “It’s chamomile.”

“It’s nice. I taste apples and cornflowers too.”

“Yeah. It’s the blend my grandma makes whenever she watches your games.”

On cue, Milo nearly choked. She hid her face in her hands, cursed then moaned that she did it again.

“She called me earlier today and kept on asking me about you. And I made it without thinking you were going to visit at all. If ever. And- oh god, this is embarrassing. I can't apologize enough.”

“D-don’t worry about it. It’s good tea.”

Layla laid her head down on the table, hid from the world as a kid would under a safety blanket. Clementine came over, took another scone, rolled his eyes at her and headed back to his bench. Milo was tempted to check if she was dead from shame.

“The apples are ‘cause of my Frapple and Appletun, right?”

Layla nodded, the movement moving the tablecloth with it.

“And the cornflowers are for Eldegoss and Gossifleur.”

Another nod.

“Then why the chamomile?”

Layla mumbled, “Because you’re chamo-Milo.”

Milo let out a loud snort, had to cover his nose because he thought snot would fly out onto the scones.

“Grandma makes a lot of bad puns.”

“She sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kids are going to return next chapter. But when they do... Oh, when they do. Also a long chapter for you guys. So far, this is one of my favorite chapters I've written thus far. Very cozy, full of mundane things such as scone consumption.  
> Summer is coming soon in the Northern Hemisphere. I hope you all are staying well! Stay cool! Stay hydrated! Stay safe!


	12. Owwie

Most of the scones were finished by the time Milo had his fill. He didn’t mean to eat as many as he did but he did. He should be the embarrassed one, not her.

Milo was concerned about the silence in the room for a while. He so badly wanted to break it apart and turn it into delightful, never-ending conversation with the beauty across the table but he found he couldn’t come up with anything good enough to say. He hated how bad he was with words sometimes.  Still, Layla was smiling softly while she ate. And oh, every time she bit into one of her scones, her eyes would shut the way Cleo’s did. They do say Pokémon resemble their Trainers. Cleo must resemble all of the cute parts of Layla.

She finished the last scone with a sigh and sip of her tea. “Should I make more?”

“Scones?”

“Mhm. I have more batter if you want some.”

“Oh, I…” And he thought about it, thought about it. “... Can I take a couple of them home?”

Oh, she looked delighted at the prospect. “Sure! I have a basket you can use.”

She headed out of the kitchen and down the hall. She went upstairs quickly, fumbled around up there. As she did, Milo felt a pair of eyes staring at him. He turned around, expecting to see Cleo. Alas, nothing. He was about to turn back around but then a silly thought came to him. He didn’t look down, did he? So he did so, nearly pulling a muscle in his neck.

The Scorbunny was there. And it was staring up at him.

“Um… Layla?”

He dare not move his eyes away from the cutie. It stared right back at him, shifting his weight from foot to foot almost curiously.

“Layla?”

She couldn’t hear him of course. She could hear the doorbell ring though and she ran down the stairs and towards it. He was having a staring contest with her downstairs neighbor of course.

“Lay—“

The Scorbunny bit him. Milo recoiled, fell out of the seat and straight on his ass on the floor. The Scorbunny used the chair almost like a trampoline to get onto the tabletop. He stole the remaining scones and ran out and back under the porch.

"Owwie," he moaned.

As he always did when he hurt himself in a room by himself, he rubbed the soreness away. It was a habit he developed as a child. Instead of manning up the way his father and uncles would go on and on about, he settled on just rubbing the pain out. 

Almost on cue, Layla returned with Tommy and the other lads following, saw Milo bent over, rubbing his sore arse. Milo saw Layla gawking bug-eyed at him. The kids were rendered speechless.

Milo was ready to die.

“It’s not what you think,” he tried to say.

“W-What?” And her eye twitched like it was her bullshit-o-meter going off.

“I—“

“You’re bleeding.”

He looked down at the arm laying on the table for support. Yeah. Bleeding a waterfall of blood no doubt. He was so focused on his butt that he didn't even notice. Layla went to the pantry nearby, pulled out a first aid kit, set it on the dining table. She opened it up and pulled out gauze and wrap and peroxide.

“It seems I’m going to have to do this more than once today,” and she cracked up to herself.

“I can handle it,” Milo tried to insist.

“Oh no, you’re not. I’m the one who could be a doctor.”

He would have tried to convince her otherwise but then she touched his wrist. He liked the warmth of her fingers gently grazing his skin. He wanted her to touch him - badly. So he shut up and rested his bitten arm on the tabletop.

She took his silence as approval. She loaded up a cotton ball with peroxide, started treating him quietly. The children watched in awe.

“What happened?” Tommy asked.

She pressed the cotton ball against the wound. Milo contained the hiss he wanted to let out. He didn’t need the kids seeing him in pain. He had to smile it out - just for them.

“A Scorbunny bit me,” he forced out.

“But aren’t they herbivores? Why’d it bite you?”

She finished the torture and put the cotton ball to the side. She took some gauze, pressed it up against the bite.

Milo snickered. “Just because something bites you doesn’t mean it wants to eat you.”

She darted her eyes, looking for something. Milo took his other hand, held the gauze down for her. She nodded and went to prepare the wrapping.

“But that’s a big bite right there. I bet it ate some of your muscles.”

“It didn’t eat anything. It was being a little pr—“ And he caught himself. “—bugger and bit me. That’s all.”

Layla had trouble tearing the wrap with her fingers so she did things the old-fashioned way. She brought it to her teeth, yanked, and it tore right into a perfect strip. Then she took the end that went in her mouth, rubbed some peroxide on it. She carefully wrapped it around his arm, tying a little bow once done.

“You sure? Maybe it’s a Werebunny.”

He chuckled softly. “No, no. It’s not.”

“Are you done now?” And he and the rest of the gang looked up.

Milo looked down at his arm. Huh. She did a real good job. Better than the folks at the local hospital. He knew because he was a frequent visitor since he found himself or other farmers hurt in unusual ways. One time, another one of his brothers, Dill, got his head stuck in a bicycle. How he accomplished that, no one knew to that day. But the nurses didn't bat a lash when they saw Milo and Sage balancing the bicycle and Dill laughing like he was drunk on life.

“Mhm,” Layla told them. “Now why are you boys here? You never did say why.”

“Oh, uh, well. We’re sorry about what happened earlier. None of it would have happened if I didn’t try to go and get you.”

She gave them a soft look, smiled. “There’s no need for any of that. You haven’t anything to be sorry about.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. It’s not your fault that what happened happened. You were being very polite - proper gentlemen.”

The boys’ eyes lit up like fireworks in the summer sky.  _ Gentlemen _ . They were gentlemen.

“Okay. Well, Sage lost the battle, right?”

Milo figured it ended in a draw more than either opponent taking the victory. Still, Layla nodded her head and claimed she was the victor.

“Then I lost my right to go and get with you. So I can’t marry you.”

“Aw. Better luck next time.”

“But. Can we come to visit again? And uh. Be friends?”

“Of course.”

The kids rejoiced. 

“Alright! We’re gonna go now. I’m telling my mom you were rubbing your ass in front of the pretty lady, Milo.”

The boys agreed, said they’d do the same. Milo tried to stop them, especially because they had such potty mouths for such young kids, but they were faster than a nudist. They slipped from his fingers and headed straight out the door, chattering about heading to the lake to flip Chewtles. Once the children left, Layla looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“I don’t understand why you were rubbing your butt but I’m going to act like I never saw you do that.”

He was blushing. He had to be. “Thank you.”

“And let me get those scones for you.”

She headed right over to the counter, filled up the basket with scones, and covered them with cheesecloth. She gave the basket to him, smiling sweetly.

“I swear I fell on my butt,” Milo muttered.

She giggled. “Right. I have a feeling I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

She could spend all day describing paint drying and he’d listen to it all without a second thought. She didn’t need to know that though so he gave her the usual friendly crap he gave.

“No, no. I feel I’ve done that to you.”

“You haven’t. I enjoyed every second you were here. Thank you for coming by. That was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes widened for a moment as she dug into the pocket of her dress. Holy god her dresses had pockets. What a fashion master. She pulled out the League card the kids gave her and tucked it in the basket.

“Also can you return this to the boys when you can? It’s very sweet of them to give this to me but it’s just too valuable to keep. I hardly ever battle, much less would use this to contact the Champion for one. They should be chatting up the Champion, not me.”

His heart threatened to burst from his chest. “Of course. I’ll make it seem like I’m giving them a new one.”

“Perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.” Truly. Anytime.

Milo departed then, smiling on his journey back to the fields. Getting the foundation down was the worst part of any project. Yet he completed it seamlessly. Now to start building on it. Now to start truly falling in love with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking in to say, Black Lives Matter and ACAB. I hope you all are doing well. I haven't been on social media as much due to the protests. Not only am I a Black woman but I also live in an epicenter of protest activity in my city. It's incredibly stressful for me and other BIPOC so I wanted to post a new, silly chapter to hopefully lift some spirits. Please, keep fighting for us any way you can.


	13. Research

**_how to get a girl—_ **

Milo considered the word for a moment, frowned when he reached his conclusion. No. She wasn’t a girl. She’s a lady. He pressed the Backspace key four times slowly.

He was shite with computers in the first place. Then the IT department thought it’d be a great idea to give Big Hand Him a tiny thing of a keyboard. The whole experience was uncomfortable but he had to get this done. It was the only computer he knew of and he didn’t want his Rotomphone asking questions about why he was looking that up. He could bullshit to the bosses about his search history. “Oh, y’know, just trying to improve my demeanor and all. It’s for the viewers.” Mention the cash cow and they get off his back quickly. He just needed to get this done once and for all.

**_how to get a lady to like you_ **

He pressed the Enter key and waited for the search results to appear. He clicked the first link he saw, bobbed his knee, and furrowed his brow as he sat there again. Finally, the website loaded and he was met with 23 Tips on How to Get a Girl to Like You. And he read it like he was reading a sacred text.

He couldn’t help staring into her pretty eyes all the time so the first tip - making eye contact is key - was a breeze. Don’t rehearse it was going to be harder though. The third tip about good posture made him realize he was slouching over in his chair. He straightened up, kept mentally berating himself for being such a caveman. The next tip about body language made him feel even worse. He must look like a doofus in front of her.

The sixth tip was what made him close the tab. Impress her. How was he going to impress her? She was effortlessly elegant while he was gross and slobby. How was he going to do that?

He reopened the article. The suggestions underneath explained how. Dress to impress? How could he do that? Improving hygiene made him check his breath. Helping her out was possible. He did see himself as somewhat reliable after all. Being there for her too sounded simple enough. Being kind to others was his very long middle name. Taking initiative - that was a whole other story.

The final tip made him gulp. Pursue personal goals. He closed the browser window, turned off the monitor, and frowned hard.

He never was the kind of man who had goals. He lived what observers would call a very successful life. Major League Gym Leader, owner of a successful farm and flower shop, one of the best Galarian Pokémon trainers of his favored typing. He didn’t work towards what would be considered aspirations though. Besides training his Pokémon - which he did because it was the natural thing to do, not to succeed in his career - his achievements dropped themselves in his lap and he took the opportunities in stride. Heavens, he had to be convinced to be a Gym Leader. He bought his farm because he liked the meadow flowers growing in the fields. He just lived life, never wanting anything from it.

He needed some. Pronto. Because Layla was chock full of ambition and, if he wanted to impress her, he needed a bit too.

What did he want from life then? He laid his head on the desk, closed his eyes, and thought about it.

Well, he already had everything he wanted so far. Or so he thought. But when he noticed the silence in the room, he grimaced. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Sure, he had his big team of silly goobers but there was something about human connection that he longed for. He always felt like a big, scary monster, capable of carnage, chaos, and more. Yet the thought of coming home to a wife and children made him feel like a person again. 

It was wrong of him to make Layla a goal. That was reducing her to what she - or anyone for that matter - didn’t want to be. He didn’t deserve her or her attention. That was not how life worked. But perhaps being good to her was a better goal. Whatever came of it came of it. From that point on, he would do his best to be a good friend to her.

Maybe romantic friend.

He decided to make a list. Yes, the man who never made lists was going to make a list about it. He titled it simply: How to Get Layla 2 Like U. Then he began to think of things he could do.

First, give her flowers often. He could do that. His major orders at the shop were for festivals and funerals. Most folks don’t even think of buying flowers for their loved ones anymore. There were flowers to spare for his growing infatuation for the city girl.

Second, be a good neighbor. It was strange writing that down but he felt he should. His romantic interests must come last in all of this. If she wanted to just be acquaintances, he had to settle with that and give up on this silliness. And he liked helping people around town anyway. He would come to like helping her out too.

Third, get good with her Pokémon. It would be the most arduous task of them all. But if he got Cleo to like him - at least a little - then maybe something could happen, right? City guys caught Yampers and Electrikes to get ladies. He could just butter up her dog buddy. Regardless, he really, really wanted to pet the cutie and he was going to figure out how to become his friend somehow just to give a good pat just once.

Finally. Get some goals for yourself. She was intelligent beyond compare. Confident too. He saw her aspirations given life on open display. She had so much drive in her. She couldn’t possibly want to be with a guy who was just waltzing around through life. So. He needed to aim for something for once.

When he finished, he looked over the mess he made the paper and frowned. Oh, why didn’t he have better handwriting?

Then reality set in.

What would happen if Layla found it? What would happen if _anyone_ found it? Would he be the laughingstock of town? Would he be called a creep, sicko - or worse, a perv?

He was about ready to ball it up and toss it in the trash when the door to the office swung open. As quick as lightning striking, he chucked it into an open drawer in his desk and slammed it shut.

“Milo, why aren’t you on the turf yet?” Mark asked, “The ice cream’s getting warm.”

“Um. I had to check my email.”

Mark furrowed his brow, glanced at the desk, and the turned-off monitor.

“Uh-huh,” he sarcastically noted.

Milo rose from his chair, faking a smile as hard as he could. He headed to the door.

“What’s in the drawer?” Mark questioned in a borderline interrogating tone.

“You know the saying about family business.”

Family business is none of yours.

“Right.”

And they headed off.

* * *

That day was the last day for the apprentices’ work schedules. School was starting for them next week and they needed to return to their families and homes to prepare. All of the Gym Leaders usually took their kids on free trips to amusement parks or something fun. There wasn’t much to offer in Turffield though. Thus, Milo hosted an annual ice cream party to make up for the lack of attractions. It wasn’t the run-of-the-mill market ice cream. It was made fresh from dairy farmers who doted on their “big, strong town hero” a little too much. The sweets were _good_ \- and it was hard to get that out of perfectionist farmers such as the residents of the agricultural community.

“Milo, be honest with me,” Leah asked.

The only girl of his apprentices was almost finished with her third cup. Milo would tell her to slow down but she didn’t slow down for anything. He did note she was noticing more things in town though. A sign that had always been there, a nest in a certain tree. Turffield was infecting her. Idyllic life in the countryside did that to people.

“Hm?”

Milo was trying to eat slow. He was shit with the cold so he figured he was more prone to brain-freeze than others. Or that’s what his mother always told him. It was more that she was just trying to keep him from blowing chunks. Still, the wisdom stuck even then.

“Am I getting fired?”

Milo nearly choked on the wad of ice cream in his mouth. “Heavens no! What made you think that?”

She waved her spoon in the air for a moment before she pouted.

“My performance wasn’t that good this year. Ugh, I lost so many battles.”

He gave her a reassuring smile, tried to be the leader he was supposed to be.

“Now now. All that means is we got many talented Challengers this season. You and every other apprentice here are budding into exceptional Trainers. Truly, you will go far and wide with the skills you’re building. Every battle - win or lose - is educational.”

She gave him a look. “So you’re saying I suck.”

He snorted. “No. C’mon, I think I’d tell you that if I thought so.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Samuel said, “You’d say we got many talented Challengers this season.”

Samuel, the wisest of the whole bunch of banana-heads Milo lovingly called his apprentices. He hated the city so he jumped on the first opportunity to spend his summers away from it.

He grimaced. “I hate that kids are so witty now. Why can’t you be stupid and run into traffic like my generation?”

Mark - the prankster of the group - rolled onto his back, mimicking a grouchy old man shaking his cane at some youngsters. He also seemed to act like grouchy old men were Chewtles flipped onto their shells when they fall. There was some truth to it. The ultimate weakness of shitty geezers - balance.

“Blame technology,” Mark wheezed out, “And those bloody Rotomphones.”

Milo reprimanded lightly, “Hey. No cursing.”

“Says you. I’ve heard you in the fields.” And he tried to mimic his boss. “Bloody this and bloody that. Aw, is that a Diglet or your wanker? Get back to work!”

“That’s Dale, not me,” Milo was quick to correct. Milo didn’t need to stoop so low as to use weenie jokes to get his point across.

The apprentices furrowed their brows. They gathered in a sarcastic song of two noises - uh and huh.

“I don’t make the rules.”

“Right.”

“And I mean it when I say there were a lot of good Challengers this year. You saw the tournament line-up for this year. Instead of one, there are four challengers in the finals. We also can’t forget that this is the first gym. You are to test a challenger’s endurance, one of the key elements of a world-class Trainer, and nothing more. Each of you did exactly that and then some. I’m very proud of you and endlessly lucky you’re my apprentices.”

The teens groaned. Milo smiled. His mission to embarrass the kiddos one last time was complete.

“Also, we did so well this year that we’re getting more of you next year.”

And that’s when the screams of joy started up. All of them jumped into his lap, tried their best to squash him. They could never do such a thing. To prove it to them, he got off the ground, hoisting them up with him, and swung ‘em around like monkeys on a vine. They shrieked, cracked up. Milo loved making them happy.

“Do you know who it's gonna be?” Leah asked.

Milo put them down then. They quickly went back to their feast.

“Not yet. Hiring season is in the fall as usual. Still, there’s two spots open and if you guys know anyone as good at battling as you are, give me a ring whenever. And also give me a ring whenever you want in general. I’ll miss you all while you’re in school.”

“No you won’t,” Mark exclaimed, “You’ve got a million Wooloo to cuddle with when you’re lonely.”

He’d much prefer Layla but they didn’t need to know that.

“37 and they’re gassy. I don’t have a death wish, I have you know.”

They all chuckled. Milo took another spoonful of ice cream. Oh gosh, the Oran Berry flavor was amazing.

* * *

Milo locked up the Gym for the season, patted the glass door like a baby’s head. He was going to miss this place. His work there was hard but extraordinarily fun. Now, to survive a fall and winter.

He turned away from the door, saw his apprentices were waiting for him with big, expectant smiles on their lips.

“What’re you grinning about?” he asked.

Samuel averted his eyes to someone a little ways to the right of him. Layla. She was talking with Susanna nearby his flower shop. Oh god, golden hour made the city girl ethereal. Shitshitshit how could the setting sun make anyone look that incredible?

“Miss Layla! Miss Susanna!” the teens called her.

Layla gasped. Susanna cracked up and waved. The apprentices ran over to the women and started bantering about this and that. Milo simply observed from afar, getting lost in Layla’s eyes.

“Enough about us. Gym Leader Milo really wants to talk with you,” Leah said to Layla.

Mark and Sammy gave Milo shit-eating grins. Sons of bitches. How dare they.

Layla came right over to Milo, Cleo magically appearing from behind Susanna to give chase. He was going to have a heart attack. She was smiling so sweetly at him. What did he do to deserve this? It couldn’t just be because he existed. And he so badly wanted to hug her. She just looked so huggable then.

“Hiya, Milo,” she greeted cheerfully.

Oh, she put a smile on his face with that. The way she said his name gave him goosebumps the way a good song did.

“Hi, Layla.”

“Your apprentices are absolute sweethearts. Look what they gave me.”

They gave her the flowers he gifted them. Absolute sons of bitches! He gave them a look. They dared to snicker.

“Did you grow these?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. That’s why they’re so lovely. It’s like Arceus created you to love all of its creations in its stead. You’re… incredible.”

Milo could have died right then and there. He could feel the burn his blushing cheeks were giving his skin. His heart threatened to jump right out of his chest. His knees - liquified. Could he even walk? Could he even move without crumbling apart?

What a hell of a compliment.

“Oh! Did I say something wrong?” The pout on her lips made his chest hurt.

“No, not at all. I’m just— timid. And thankful. Folks don’t usually say things like that so sincerely.”

Or right in front of him.

“I appreciate it - a lot actually. Most Wyndon folks call me… well, curse at me is a better way to describe their opinions of me.”

“And you don’t deserve any of it. I think you’re great. Um, I’m not good at keeping up with sports but I love watching your battles with Grandma. Your drive to be kind to all and have fun is so important in a league that folks complain is too focused on entertainment value and the superficial. You’re— great. And uh— you’ve been so sweet to me all this time. You deserve a compliment - or five.”

He snorted. “I don’t think my own mother’s ever said that about me.”

“Oh no!” And she giggled.

“Thank you - really. It warms my heart you think that highly of me.”

“You’re welcome.”

He took a gander at the teens. They were smirking, Mark wiggling his eyebrows. Shit. Did they know his dirty secret?

“Granny Smith mentioned there was something special happening this week for you.”

Granny Smith and her husband, Grandpa Smith, were the kindly, retired couple living next door to her. Whenever Milo needed help with anything flower related, he went to them. Their children were too busy running the family apple orchard so they were often by themselves, prompting Milo to visit often. Milo could imagine Layla doing the same, bearing gifts of scones and preserves.

“Yeah. Friday is the Finals tournament for this year’s Challenge.”

Her eyebrows rose, eyes wide. He continued anyway.

“Yesterday was the very last day any Challengers could challenge the gym. And today, we’re locking her up for the season. Um, we had an ice cream party to celebrate. I, uh, think I left a carton or two in my fridge at home. D-Do you want one?”

Layla quickly waved her hands and shook her head. “No no. You’re the Gym Leader here. Celebrate the season. You deserve it.”

He smiled. “Alright then. Well, if you ever crave ice cream, you gotta go to All Creamy Farm. They make the best in town. Also, their Alcremies are cute. Mention me and they’ll give you a discount.”

“I’ll do that then. Thank you for the recommendation.”

“You’re welcome.”

He wouldn’t dare tell her the reason he mentioned the farm was because he had a little fantasy of seeing her reaction to their ice cream. He surmised she was a sweet-tooth and that place was sweet-tooth paradise.

“Also, tell your grandma I hope she enjoys my matches on Friday. I’ll be doing my best to uproot my opponents - while having fun of course.”

And he winked. And he nearly shit a brick because he didn’t even know he could wink in the first place. Yet he did so with what could be excellent timing. But the question came: was he a bad winker? Was he doing the Raihan sexy wink? The Nessa elegant wink? Shoot, the Gordie silly wink? Or did he reach a new level and mastered the almighty Leon smoldering wink? Or maybe he just made himself look like a jackass and winked with his whole face, scrunching his mug up worse than a Snubbull.

She grumbled like a child - which set his heart into overdrive because how much cuter could she get - and begged him to stop teasing her. “It was one mistake,” she told him.

He chuckled, covered his heart to make sure it was still beating. “And I’ll croak before I forget it,” he told her.

Milo glanced at the apprentices. All of them with shit-eating grins. _What did he do?_

“Anywho, I better get dinner started before Cleo throws a hissy fit.”

The Lucario huffed, turned away from her. She giggled and patted him on the head. God, they were cuties.

“There, there. I get hangry too,” she gently reminded, “Thank you for the tip.”

Milo remembered his duty in life wasn’t to gawk at her all day then. He blinked, shuttered, and asked, “About what?”

“The ice cream. And also the Alcremies… Mostly the Alcremies.”

He snorted. “Ah. Right. Anytime, Layla. I should walk the kids to the—“

Said kids were gone with the wind. Milo’s face turned a shade of light red out of embarrassment. Also a little bit of baby rage. Bastards! It was an annual tradition to walk the apprentices to Hulbury Station at the end of Challenge season. Yet they up and ditched him. Or maybe they got bored of watching him make goo-goo eyes at the pretty new neighbor. Was he a bore? Probably. And now, Milo was sad.

“Oh. They were here just a second ago,” she noted, “Where did they go?”

“Home,” he sighed.

“... Home is not in Turffield, right?”

He nodded. She frowned.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry I took up so much of your time.”

“It’s fine. They’re rebellious teenagers. They do that.”

“I see.”

Milo remembered the list. He had to make an effort to change himself. And if he wanted to impress her, he had to change. So. He decided to take a baby step towards it by gathering up as much courage as he could and using it to be a little daring.

He wiped the back of his neck and spoke quieter than a mouse but he did say, “Uh, I usually walk them to Hulbury and I think it’d be weird if I didn’t walk someone home tonight. Would you mind if I did that for you?”

Milo blinked for a moment. What in the world was he doing? Asking to walk her home after winking at her.

Yet Layla beamed at him like the sun setting before them and nodded. “I’d like that.”

His heart settled instantly. While smiling, he daringly offered her his arm. She giggled, looped her arm around his. Milo went pin-straight just from her skin rubbing against his. Oh no. He forgot how soft she was.

Once he got the nerve to walk, they headed off. When they were out of earshot, Milo’s apprentices came out of his flower shop, cracking up.

“I told you,” Susanna laughed, “He gets red as a beet around her. Now get ya sorry asses to ‘Bury before I tell Miley what you’ve done.”

“Promise to tell us if they start dating,” Leah asked with puppy-dog eyes.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You’re worse than the press.”

“Bye Anna! See you next summer!”

“Bye, twerps. And hurry up. Your train leaves in twenty minutes.”

The apprentices hopped on their bikes and headed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you cringing at the beginning? Because I sure was while writing that. What a himbo...  
> Anyway, please excuse me for my absence. Home reno + screaming babies + life in general had me running on low battery for past few weeks. I'm currently writing the next chapter and hope to have it done soon. It'll be cute, along with the next ones following!  
> Anyway, BLM, ACAB, and a bunch of other things. Stay safe, y'all.


	14. Confetti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! I’m changing the rating one last time to Mature just because things get a little more in a mature direction later on in this fanfic and I don’t wish to have any younger kids reading this. Nothing will ever be explicit and it will still be soft and fluffy for the most part. But this fan fiction has to do with Milo realizing things about himself and loving himself and gosh darn it does he deserve it. I’m going to be editing the tags too. Thank you for your patience with my indecisiveness!
> 
> MASSIVE EDIT; AGHHHHH I NOTICED SOME OF THE CHAPTER WAS MISSING WAY TOO LATE! It’s been added now!

Milo rolled his thumbs around each other. His ears were hurting already and the opening ceremony hadn’t begun yet. The roar of the crowd was insane, as Gordie would describe with a big grin. If it wasn’t the fans giving him a headache, it was hearing his own heartbeat pounding and pumping blood up and down his body. 

Four challengers - the oldest of them 16 - making it to Finals; the fans had every right to get hyped up over it. He was too. One of the four bushy-browed newbies could face the Champ tomorrow. That was plenty exciting. But Raihan’s backers were proper pissed sixteen of the buggers made it past him, much less four of them making it to Finals. This wasn’t good for their pockets at all. Too many chances for bets to go wrong, advertisers to be turned down. Raihan was moaning and groaning about them to Nessa, specifically the earful he got from them.

“I keep on forgetting how much they kiss ass, y’know?” Raihan told her, “Yadda yadda about having to beg the networks to extend the broadcasts.”

“Well, this is what ya signed up for, innit?” Piers interrupted, mean look on his mug. “You got no right to complain if you’re doing nothin’ to fix it.”

Milo’s Rotom Phone floated out of his pocket and hovered into view. Yes. He named his Rotom Phone Roary. He didn’t know why. It just looked like a Roary. But Roary loved its name so the name stuck.

“Hiya, Milo!”

His Rotom didn’t have a Galarian accent. In fact, he hadn’t a clue what accent it was speaking. Still, it wasn’t the language of whistles and cacophony he was born speaking. He did like the accent though. It was refreshing to hear something different often. Getting too used to the same idea and setting made people stubborn.

“Hiya, Roary.”

“You got three text messages from your contacts and one email from your family. Would you like to read ‘em now?”

Something to take his mind off of the noise. Yes. He needed to. He accepted.

Roary descended into Milo’s hands, letting the gym leader do what he had to. Milo checked his email first. His family came first - always. It was from his mother, reminding him to send pictures of him and his apprentices. That was all.

He sighed, his heart hurting. He knew they were proud, his mother especially. But why couldn’t they say it to his face?

He went on to the text messages. One from his patron’s assistant wishing him good luck. Of course. Leon sent one along the lines too, though the tone was much different than the professional nature of the former. It was a challenge for him to meet him on the turf tomorrow. Milo ignored the challenge part but he thanked him as he always did.

The final. From Pretty Lady.

“Hiya! This is your neighbor, Layla,” she wrote, “Good luck tonight! You’re gonna do great out there!”

His heart fluttered in his chest. Oh, how quick could she make his body feel light and without a burden in the world. He thanked her quickly. Truly, he was grateful for her. He didn’t need to feel bad right before a match. Who could have fun on a bad day?

She responded by sending the world’s cutest photo. It was of Cleo curled up in her lap on her couch. It was a tight fit, strange too since Cleo was bipedal yet he was rolled up like a bread roll such as other dog Pokémon. Yet he was happy as a clam.

He screamed in his head. Look at that little lad just enjoying the hell out of cuddle time. God, he just wanted to give the cutie one pat on his noggin. Just one. That’s all he asked.

He immediately sent a love reaction. “I’m becoming a big fanboy of his.”

She sent a video in response. It was of Cleo responding to the news of Milo’s praise of him.

“Milo thinks you’re pretty swell, sweetie,” she told him cheerfully.

Cleo proceeded to grumble and turn away.

Milo sent a broken-heart reaction, texted, “Rejected!”

“Don’t give up,” she encouraged, “He’s just being a brat. I think he likes you a ton.”

Fabric brushed near Milo’s thigh. He turned to his right. Bea. Quiet as a mouse but with glittering eyes focused on the picture of Cleo.

“This is Clementine,” Milo gently introduced.

“He’s breathtaking,” Bea mumbled, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Fighting-type with such shiny fur. Even my own Lucario’s fur can’t compare.”

“He has a very sweet, very smart trainer.” And Milo paused to let his heart calm down in his chest for a moment. “I’ll tell her your compliments.”

And so he did. And Bea almost leaned into him as they waited for a response. He didn’t mind. He was just surprised Bea was opening up a little to him, especially during such an inopportune time. He always figured the ferocious warrior he saw in her matches was just as shy as he was at times. Also, she was a teenager and lover of Pokémon. She had every right to squeal over cute Pokémon.

“Bea?! Like actual Bea?!” Layla texted back.

“Yeah. I’m a Gym Leader, remember?” he teased. “She’s sitting right next to me.”

“I know you’re a dang Gym Leader! And she’s really sitting next to you?”

“Yeah. Bea thinks he’s breathtaking.”

“Oh gosh! Tell her I said thank you. I’m super honored.”

And she sent an adorable Lucario emoji. And oh gosh he didn’t think things could get any cuter. But oh gosh, she paid money to buy a special collection of Lucario emojis. She went all out for her love for Clementine.

“Layla, she’s reading what you’re texting. You don’t have to have me say anything to her.”

And she sent a slew of gibberish. And Milo snorted. She texted how she spoke. And he adored how she spoke. So he adored her text messages.

“Can you text her my phone number?” Bea asked suddenly. Then she looked away, started cracking her knuckles and fingers almost nervously. “There are very few female Lucario trainers. I… think I should talk to one. Or two. Or five.”

He nodded. “Of course. She’d love to talk to you. She’s super smart so I bet she’d like to learn things from you. Even though she’s older, she’ll hope you’re a good teacher.”

She nodded. “Right. I will.”

And Milo did so quickly.

“I’ll ask you for her number later. I should initiate the conversation, right?” And she looked at him like she was begging a god for answers.

“It’s up to you. Don’t force yourself if you think you can’t do it. But she’s a sweetheart so don’t worry about her being mean to you or anything. She just moved all the way from Wyndon so she’s looking for friends who live closer by. Stow-on-Side is only a hop and skip away from Turffield, right?”

Bea nodded, her eyes sparkling again but her lips in a flat line.

“Then don’t be afraid to ask her to be your friend should you want to. And don’t be afraid to visit Turffield should you get tired of the heat. We’ve got plenty of Wooloos for you to play with.”

One last nod from her. “Thank you, Milo.”

“Anytime. Now good luck out there tonight. Kick some tail.”

And she made her expression severe and cold, that stoic warrior League fans cheered for. “You should hope it’s not yours.”

He chuckled, grinned. “I hope so too.”

She walked away then, heading out the waiting area and towards the inner part of Wyndon Stadium’s basement. Milo sighed, looked at the ceiling. So. Bea was as much as Pokémon dork as the rest of the Leaders.

His phone buzzed again. He checked it. Another message from Layla.

“Cleo is entering full snuggle mode. I repeat. Cleo is entering full snuggle mode.”

And she sent a video of Cleo using her torso as a pillow. His head laid on her breasts, his arms wrapped around her waist. His tail was wagging slowly, almost peacefully. If he was a cat, he’d be purring his little head off.

Oh god, be still his heart. The cutie got cuter.

Milo noticed the design on Layla’s shirt. It was an official League jersey, the logo on the collar and all. But it wasn’t a Turffield shirt, not even a Feldlands one. It’s Gordie’s shirt. Gordie.

Oh he was gonna get on her case about this.

“Is that a Circhester shirt?” Milo texted back. “I thought you were rooting for me.”

For the finishing touch, he added a frowning emoticon. And he sent it, waited only a moment for her reply.

“I swear I am! This is just an oldie from college!”

“Uh huh.”

He turned to his right when he saw someone sit down. Gordon himself. He looked crisper than crisp - as he always did for tournaments. Not a hair out of place. He was also texting someone, probably a good luck wish.

Milo’s phone vibrated. Layla was begging him to give her mercy. And he decided he was going to mess with her.

“Y’know, Gordie is sitting right next to me. I could tell him a sweet neighbor of mine is cheering him on…”

He smiled, sent it.

Almost immediately, his phone started violently vibrating. She was calling him. Oh god she was calling him of all people.

He answered, went straight into a video call with her. She was pouting like a sad baby, her arms crossed.

“Don’t you dare,” she ordered.

Even though his heart was skipping a beat and his limbs were melting into jelly, he was still doing his best to act coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” he teased, “I mean he’s right here next to me. See?”

And he pointed to the shoulder butting in on his right side.

“I could easily tell him a pretty lady I know is rooting for him. That’ll get him the spot to fight Lee tomorrow.”

And she stumbled over her words until she could get a full sentence out. “But I’m rooting for you, I swear!”

“Are you a turncoat then or are you lying to make me smile? ‘Cause it’s absolutely working.”

And she paused, chewed her lip nervously. Oh god, he wanted to hug her badly. How much cuter could she get?

“Oh. I’m glad,” she mumbled out.

“Gordon, did ya put in enough hair gel to make your hair that pointy or are you just happy to see me?” Piers shouted from the other end of the waiting room.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Gordie exclaimed back, getting up, “You won’t be talking crap when Coalossal and I send you, the Zigzagoon nest you call hair, and Obstagoon packing.”

A round of smack talk started then. Milo cringed in his seat from the noise.

“S-Sorry, it’s loud,” Milo apologized, growing small, “We all get excited right before our matches.”

“No need,” Layla told him, “Good luck tonight. I mean it when I say I’m rooting for you.”

“Thank you… I’ll be thinking of you when I’m battling.”

And she stared at him bug-eyed. “Me?”

“Mhm.”

“Not your family?”

“Well, of course them too. I always battle for them and all of Turffield.”

“But why me too?”

“Well, I keep on bumping into you and weren’t you the one who said you’re always butting into things? Well, you headbutted into my noggin.”

He didn’t want to tell her how often he thought of her just yet. That’d be too much - especially in a room of folks who will hear and use that against him every chance he got.

“Oh. Do you need a bandage for that or—“

She got him giggling. “C’mon, I’m trying to be sincere here and you’re making jokes.”

“Sorry! Just— It’s kind of unbelievable you’ll be thinking of some girl you’ve barely known for a month.”

“H-Hey, you’re not some girl. You’re a really wonderful lady who’s been nothing but sweet and adorable—“

Abort mission. Abort mission right now. The toddlers that controlled his body were in panic mode, running around screaming in the control center in his brain. What a fatal error he made. Could he just hang up and erase what he just said from the universe? Could he beg the godly Pokémon to change time and space to go back to the moment before any of this? Or could he just beg them to have her be his sweetheart already instead of having to go through embarrassing things such as that?

The last of those sounded like the best option honestly.

Fortunately she had a good camera on her phone and the lights were on in her living room. He could get an excellent view of how flustered he made her. He didn’t think she could blush - considering how tan she was - but her cheeks were burning a barely visible shade of coral red. She couldn’t look at the screen, instead setting her gaze below her, maybe on Cleo. And he swore there were tears in her eyes.

Oh shit, he messed up. Big time.

He faked breaking-up sounds, said they were breaking up. He then ended the call and grimaced.

That was why he kept quiet all the time - because he flubbed everything up.

“You sound like you need meditation too.”

Milo gulped. Kabu. He didn’t even notice Kabu sitting on his left at all. Goodness, he was somehow more quiet than he was - and that was an accomplishment. He had headphones in his ears, his meditation playlist on his phone paused. Right. Kabu held a meditation at the beginning of every day at the gym with his apprentices. He would usually just play a guided one off of a website and just follow along with the kids. When Milo first became a Gym Leader, he would do these meditations with him. He had to admit they did wonders for his anxiety. It wasn’t a surprise Kabu was such a talented Leader too. The meditations cleared the mind, focused oneself. It helped grow the roots and stoke the fire in their hearts.

Milo really was lucky to be working so closely with him.

“Badly,” he joked softly.

Kabu let out a small bit of laughter and sighed. “Well, I would like to invite you to join me for one but I have a feeling the Chairman will be arriving in a moment.”

Milo nodded, his mood plummeting as soon as Rose was mentioned.

Bea came running back into the room, stopping near the big screen. That’s how he knew Kabu was right. Nothing stopped Bea’s training except the League.

As if the mere mention of his name summoned him, rather than saying it three times and spinning around in front of a mirror the way Milo used to believed, Chairman Rose strolled into the waiting bay. He was glowing like he was only days away from giving birth.

In a sense, the League was Rose’s love-child with his adoration for Pokémon. And annually they brought another one of the progeny into the world for all to gawk at and for all the investors to line their pockets in. There was battles to be won, money to be made. And of course, Rose will say it’s a major win for charity but Milo could smell bullshit from a mile away.

In other words, as always, Milo got a cold chill from being in the same room as the chairman.

All of the leaders formed a circle around Rose. Milo stood behind Raihan and Nessa, doing his best to hide. Oleana and top members of the League’s various committees stood close behind.

“Well. It looks like we’re all here and raring to go,” Rose started with a smile, “Good. That’s very good.”

Rose rolled his shoulders back, looked over the younger group of leaders with an almost fatherly look. Oh, he should dye himself violet if he wants to be so proud of them - Milo couldn’t help thinking that. And he felt ashamed of it immediately. Yes, he had every right to be uncomfortable around him but how dare he bite the hand that feeds. And he wasn’t acting like himself. Talking to girls, getting giddy over silly text messages, thinking hateful thoughts about the chairman that put food on his family’s table.

“Now, may I begin by congratulating you all on another incredible League season. Truly, this year has been the best one yet. Surprise after surprise, new tricks up your sleeves. My family and I have been delighted while watching your matches. Lizzie still has her crush on you, Raihan.”

Raihan grimaced so hard he looked like a Snubbull. Chuckles filled the room quickly.

“And Ada enjoyed every one of your matches as usual, Milo.”

All eyes fell on him, making Milo smaller than he already was. He was already the shortest in the room, considering that Opal was only shorter because she had that bad hunch in her back. The most timid as well. But why oh why did Rose have to mention that his bloody wife was a big fan of his. He hadn’t a clue why, considering the kind of woman she was. But now he was red as a Cheri berry, wasn’t he?

Rose laughed. Oh, blast him and his stupid pale skin. All it did was burn after a few seconds in the sun and make it painfully obvious he was embarrassed about every little thing.

“Hey hey, she’s still my wife, y’know. I’m sure you’ll be able to find yourself one too.”

Everyone cracked up again. Oh god almighty why did he have to be the butt of his jokes?

“Now, I’d like to introduce to you all Mr. Chesterfield. He recently donated quite a pretty Poké into the hospitals our League helps fund. His son is also competing tonight.”

And it was as if a match was lit in the airspace between all of them. Everyone in the room was itching to know who the little bastard was. Because they were all ready to kick his ass as if he had a “Kick Me” sign on his back.

Mr. Chesterfield’s son was probably the bribe baby for this season - a champion born from a bribe essentially. But a baby nonetheless because none of these “champions” would ever survive out in the Wild Area or win a real battle. They were the children of the mega-rich, their parents using their money to, essentially, gain more wealth. Gym Leaders earned some of the highest salaries in the sports industry but Champs were paid far more. Who wouldn’t want their kids to make that kind of cash? And so what if the brat only had the throne for a year? Having that job on a resume will set them for life. Thus, a vicious cycle of inauthentic sportsmanship since Champion Mustard’s loss before Milo was born.

Well, that was how things used to be before Leon came into the picture.

Leon changed things simply by being true to himself and thick-skulled beyond belief. It was his hero complex coming into play of course. Things must be done the right way or no way at all even if the League got on his case about it. But he made these changes for the better. Ratings and viewership are higher than ever before. The League became a central part of Galarian life, almost like a league of justice rather than a league of Pokémon.

So when it was implied that a bribe baby was in the midst, it was the Gym Leaders’ duty to give ‘em a fair match and grind their smug asses into the dirt.

After Mr. Chesterfield’s little speech about returning glory to the medical field or whatever, the four Challengers came out of the locker room. Milo could tell right away who Mr. Chesterfield’s son was. He looked like he enjoyed snorting shit for breakfast as if it was the new escargot or fish eggs or whatever disgusting crap the rich consumed for funsies. Plus he planned to wear an expensive watch during Finals. What kind of idiot would wear something like that except a rich one? After all, who cares if it got damaged. He could just get another one. Or two. Or five.

The other three kids looked normal, kind. The lone girl amongst them sat in the corner of the room frowning while the other two were babbling about this and that to one another. The scene reminded him of when he was in the Semi-Finals. Leon and Raihan smack-talking each other while Milo messed with his hands on the benches.

He hoped the best for them. Truly.

“Ah, now that everyone is here, let’s look at the brackets,” Chairman Rose stated.

On the big screen in the room, the brackets appeared. Nessa Vs. Raihan, Kabu vs. Gordie, Melony vs. Opal. The rest of the leaders went up against the Challengers. Milo found his name quickly.

Milo vs. Chesterfield.

It was then that Milo realized the matches were rigged. The first of the Major League gym leaders and the most merciful of them all, he was considered the weakest of the bunch by many fans. And now the League apparently. Of course they’d match up the kid they want to take down Leon with the softie.

The kid was talking shit already - cracking up and saying he was going to kick the farmer’s ass all the way back to Mammy. Milo didn’t mind. If he couldn’t handle a preteen’s jeering, he couldn’t be a leader. Instead, as soon as Rose and co. left, he sat back down like a goody-goody-two-shoes and tried to figure out how he was going to embarrass that little asshole in front of the whole world.

Opal sat down where Gordie was before, sighed.

“Well, it seems Melony and I won’t be having tea together for a couple of weeks,” she joked, “After all, her Lapras is going to have quite a bit of trouble with my Alcremie tonight.”

Milo smiled, told her, “Hopefully, she won’t be as much of a bully as usual.”

“And your Pokémon are always anything but. Speaking of which—“

And Opal had already gotten Eldegoss’s Pokéball out of his holster and sent her out. Eldegoss sang and smiled when she saw Opal.

“Good evening, dear,” Opal greeted. “You look lovely as ever.”

Eldegoss joyously twirled in the air and gently landed in her trainer's lap. Milo gave her a hearty pat on her noggin.

“Ah, a lover of compliments still. Now, do your best tonight but also make sure to kick that little idiot over there’s butt, you hear me?” And she pointed at the Chesterfield brat. “Even whatever Fire-types he may have. I want you to shine tonight, dear.”

Eldegoss nodded, floated up to Milo’s shoulder and gave him a smooch on his cheek. He giggled, called her a cutie.

“And you too, Milo. I don’t mean to be rude but—“

“I’m one step ahead of you, Miss Opal. I’m not planning to lose to him tonight.”

And she smiled and said, “Good.”

And she went right on her way as if that was the only reason she was speaking to him. Probably was in all honesty. He didn’t mind though. He had trouble speaking too much in situations like the one they were in. So much damn noise. It made his teeth hurt almost.

Milo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A text message from Layla.

“Oh gosh, it’s about to start, right?”

“Nope,” he texted back, “We haven’t even lined up yet.”

“Oh goodie! I gotta make some popcorn.”

“Oh, you’re making a proper show out of this, aren’t you?”

“Popcorn makes everything better.”

“Except maybe a trip to the dentist.”

She sent a laughing reaction to that message. His heart fluttered. He was making her giggle. Or at least smile.

“You’re funny!”

“It’s in my DNA.”

“I believe you. I met your brother Dill at the market the other day. Hilarious! Or maybe he’s just clumsy?”

“Clumsy.” He didn’t want to call him a jackass but he was certainly a jackass.

“Oh, now I feel bad for laughing.”

“Hey, it’s part of the routine with him. He likes making people laugh.”

“Okay! Then I don’t feel bad.”

“Good.”

The League personnel came in, dressed in white and all. “Leaders, take your positions.”

Oh. The opening ceremony. Finally.

“Hope that popcorn is done fast. We’re lining up now for the Opening Ceremony.”

He put his phone on silent, shoved it into his pocket.

Time to do his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, life has been odd LOL I’m currently preparing for possibly another semester fully online. Plus with my department’s most decorated and difficult faculty. I want to become a better creator and I know they’ll help me! But it’ll be rough! So I might not upload as often. I’m hoping to write a couple more chapters before the semester starts in a few weeks so that there will be something for me to upload when I’m feeling like doing so. I hope to not have you guys wait too long!
> 
> Also wowza! A thousand hits already! And so many kudos! Thank you so much everyone. It means the world you’re supporting me and this very silly fanfic. Let’s continue to simp our baby-faced country boi!
> 
> Keep safe, drink water, and fuck the police!


	15. Fail

Milo didn’t realize his match had ended so quickly until he saw the time on the big screen in the waiting area. Seven minutes. That had to be one of the shortest matches he’d ever been in. Could that landslide even be considered a match?

“What a shit-show.”

Piers walked up behind him, aghast. Milo found it a tad funny for a second. Piers always looked like the wayward spirit of a punk band singer. Or was that the point of punk? Whatever. He wasn’t wearing tartan anyway. How punk could he be? Still, to see him do something other than brood was significant. So Milo quickly sighed and nodded.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s Pokémon hate their Trainer so badly in the Finals,” Milo admitted. “How did he get past Nessa?”

How did he get past him?

“Bribery,” Piers spat, “Duh.”

Kabu clapped his hand on Milo’s shoulder. “You did spectacular out there.”

“Thank you, Kabu.”

“Yeah, you did bloody great,” Piers noted as if he forgot his manners earlier. “Despite the shit-show.”

Kabu solemnly nodded. “It has to be done though. We must do what we must to create the League we want to be a part of and to be the Leaders we want to be. I’m glad you won.”

“N-No problem. Just doing my part. We’re all in this together, right?”

They smiled at him, nodded. Yes, Milo overheard all of the conversations, the plans. He wasn’t just sitting there, daydreaming about Wooloo. He was just too afraid to be a direct part of the action. Because bad things happen to loudmouths and troublemakers. And he couldn’t afford for bad things to happen to him. But he heard and he supported them all. So he had to do his part.

Also, a pretty lady was rooting for him and by god was he going to impress her.

A voice like nails on chalkboard filled the room. Raihan somehow found his way behind them, trying to hide his snickers.

“Don’t look now but I think we’re seeing our first Karen,” he joked. “Straight of her native habitat too.”

Milo turned to the source. Oh my god. An actual Unovan Karen - in the flesh. With the bloody haircut and shit dye job too. She was chewing out the chairman, flailing her hands and arms erratically as if that would help her case. Milo was slightly happy Rose was getting yelled at for once. He sometimes needed a reality check to remind him he wasn’t humanity’s almighty omnipresent savior - bleeding heart and all. He was human and humans aren’t immune to assholes.

“And I cannot goddamn believe my son lost so quickly to the worst Gym Leader,” the woman exclaimed, “Really, how could an Eldegoss beat a Turtonator, especially my baby’s Turtonator?”

Ah. Chesterfield’s mother. The kid was nowhere in sight now that Milo had a look around the room. He wasn’t surprised. Most Challengers hid in the locker room or bathroom after a major loss like one in the Finals to have a good cry, call a loved one, or just sit there and think about how far they flew just for the sun to melt their wings. Who could blame them for flying so close to the sun though? The higher you soar, the better the view. Regardless, Milo was mildly curious about why that brat didn’t have the nerve to stand by his mother’s side. She was bickering with one of the most powerful men in the world for him. He should at least be kind enough to not hide while Mummy fixed everything for him.

“Don’t be a shite Trainer,” Piers said under his breath. He turned to Milo, nodded. “Off to my match. Good luck with this.”

The girl of the Challengers was gone already. Ah. She better have some Fighting or Fairy-types. She would have a field day with Piers if she had the type advantage from the get-go.

Regardless. Milo had to deal with this. Sure, this wasn’t entirely his fault. Whoever accepted the bribe in the first place started the mess. But his name was being dropped and he couldn’t handle being the blame for something he didn’t do. Thus, he took a deep breath, thinking about those meditations with Kabu. Even just one deep breath made a world of difference, one of the instructors said over soothing music. Just one deep breath could help him get through this.

He thought about just kissing ass and apologizing. But he thought about Layla. He thought about her and how she chewed out his brother for his behavior. How she refused to accept an apology from anyone but the horse’s mouth. How strong she was. And he realized he couldn’t be that strong. But he could be just a little. Maybe he could make her and the apprentices proud. Maybe.

He walked over to them, asked what the problem was.

“You — You’re the problem,” Mrs. Chesterfield answered, in shock that he didn’t notice the obvious, “You are just a goddamn bully. Really, how dare you cheat on that field tonight.”

Milo paled. He knew he didn’t do that tonight. Just the thought of it made him ill. But being accused of it was huge for a Gym Leader, even if the accuser was lying through their teeth.

“I don’t believe I was doing any sort of bullying tonight. And I have no need to cheat. My team and I are skilled enough to make it without resorting to that.”

She cringed but that didn’t slow her down. Ah, just like a global warming denier. Yeah, things are getting hotter and the weather’s turning to shit but that’s completely normal. The ice caps melting is fine. Everything is great and people who don’t believe you are attacking you and your very precious rights.

Yeah. Global warming deniers really irked Milo. And people who accused him of cheating so willy-nilly.

“You’re a grown man bullying a child—“

“I’m a Gym Leader battling against a Challenger who wasn’t ready to be here tonight. He lost fair and square.”

“He wasn’t ready for the opposition he was up against, especially from a little Ditto-faced midget like you.”

And Milo grimaced, took another deep breath.

Shit. That really hurt.

Milo was very conscious of himself, especially his appearance. Yes, he knew he was short for a man. Yes, he knew he wasn’t anywhere near attractive as the other Gym Leaders. But why did people have to remind him of that? He was 168 cm, not anywhere near the height of a person with such a physical affliction. He joked once that Dittos were the most funny-looking Pokémon out there, not even looking like a creature in the first place. And on top of the low-brow height joke, he was being compared to an alien of a being.

Most times, he ignored the jokes and laughs which followed. As he thought of prior, if he couldn’t handle trash-talk, he couldn’t be a leader. But Rose was there. And Milo couldn’t help thinking that Rose would find that insult funny, maybe even true. And then the toddlers in his head would convince him that everyone in the room felt that way. He was a little alien creature disguised as a human, only there to disrupt the delicate balance of attractive, tall human society.

He couldn’t cry about that. Yet. He had to keep his ground despite how big and full the room Milo just remembered they were in.

“Your son lost on his own accord. His Pokémon are too powerful for him to handle and they have no respect for him. During the battle, I even wondered if those were even his own Pokémon.”

And it was like the color drained out of her face. He caught that but didn’t address it. That was for the League to find out about and promptly ignore, not him.

“The basics of Pokémon training are to gain the trust and affection of your team and to be patient through all trials and tribulations. That’s what my Gym and Gym Challenge teach all of my competitors. And he clearly hasn’t even learned the most basic parts of training. I’m very sorry your son lost tonight but if it wasn’t me, it was going to be someone else who was going to have to teach him this lesson.”

He was truly tempted to say more but he knew how to hold his tongue. And even if he did want to say more, he couldn’t.

Because she responded by slapping him into next week.

He hadn’t felt something like that since he returned home from the Challenge as a child. His mother had every right to do it. He left when she and the rest of the family needed him the most. But she kissed him right afterward and said she was worried sick about him. He would receive none such love from the stranger. Thus, he was left in pain with no reprieve.

Nessa was the first to respond. She practically hopped over from the other side of the room almost and shouted at Mrs. Chesterfield. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Next was Kabu, who caught Milo when he stumbled backward. Yes, he had been hit so hard that he was seeing stars.

Next, Gordie and Raihan, who were checking if Milo was alright. Melony was ready to get her husband - the police chief of the Circhester police force - down there and threatened to have her sleep the night off in holding. Opal simply watched, Bea shaking by her side.

“What has this League come to?” Opal muttered to herself while turning to Bea. “Bea, dear, I think you should take a walk. This is a grown-up problem now.”

“I—“

“You couldn’t have done anything. You’re quick on your feet but you’re still a human being. Now, go take a walk. They’ll fix this mess in a little while.”

Bea couldn’t move right away but she did eventually run right out the room.

“You too, dears.” And the two remaining Challengers in the room set their eyes on her. “This isn’t your fault. Go on and take a minute to collect yourselves.”

Milo’s vision started to clear quickly. What he was left with was bad stinging on his cheek and worse pain in his eye. He quickly made a motion for all of the worried Leaders to take a step back. The noise was hurting him more. He was wondering if the ringing in his ears was from the racket or from the slap of a lifetime he just experienced.

“Your eye’s bleeding,” Kabu told him, “Let’s get you to a Chansey.”

Milo shook his head. He didn’t understand why he was trembling so much. It was just a slap. His own mother had done it before, his brothers much worse. Why was he getting so upset over that?

Then Chairman Rose touched him. He cupped his injured cheek the way a worried father would. And Milo’s stomach flipped and knotted. And he shook even more.

“Why would you do this to someone I consider my son?” Rose asked Mrs. Chesterfield, staring right into Milo’s eyes.

You’re not my father. You’re not my father. Milo kept on repeating that in his head.

“Oleana, please have our best personnel escort her off the premises. We will see you again in court.”

“I’ll pull our funding. I promise you this.”

“The hospitals don’t need money from a woman who hits a harmless man and knows she’ll get away because her victim is gentle-hearted. I will make up for your donation. Trust me.”

“Please—“

All eyes fell onto Milo. He gently swatted away Rose’s hand. Could his weak shove even be a swat? Still, Milo didn't notice how offended Rose was.

“I’m the one who caused this. I should apologize. And it doesn’t hurt. I’m alright.”

And Rose looked perturbed. Oleana even came over and told him he had no reason to do so and her job was to glare at everyone and everything that even remotely looked at Rose for too long.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused. I will take whatever penalty you see fit for what happened tonight.”

She smirked, thought about it for a moment.

“Well, I’d love for you to be fired—“

“You’re out of our shitting mind,” Raihan shouted.

Kabu put a hand on his shoulder, shook his head. Raihan looked pissed and confused about why in the world was the old man keeping him from going off.

“I’m very sorry but that’s not in the cards,” Chairman Rose stated. “He’s one of our best.”

“You— You didn’t tell us this in the—“ And Mrs. Chesterfield promptly closed her mouth.

“I didn’t need to. Milo is correct about the rankings. The Challenge route in Galar is not based on might. It is based purely on ease of location. We wish for the competitors to have some level of ease getting to the gyms since they do have to get through the Wild Area to even reach many areas of Galar. You simply misjudged based on your own bias.”

“You— Fine. Then disqualification. Give my son another chance.”

And all of the Gym Leaders in the room looked at Milo. And Milo let out a deep sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt me to write, dawg ; m ; But it had to be done. In every fanfiction I write, a character has to get the taste smacked out of their mouth. Why? Cause I'm extra and I love watching Jerry Springer re-runs. I'm sorry it had to be our himbo baby.
> 
> Milo'll feel better soon - promise. He's gonna get some loving real quick!
> 
> Classes have started back up again. And I'm DYING. So expect the next update to either take a long while or for me to magically appear again in two days with forty chapters. Please take care and stay safe, folks! And thank you again for reading this very silly fanfiction.


	16. Oh, Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed that there is a new Trauma Recovery tag. This chapter will begin to delve into that very briefly. Unfortunately, the first step in trauma recovery is recognizing that one has had a traumatic experience. And that first step is being taken.

Milo felt like he trudged through rain, snow, and fire to reach the gate outside of his farm. Meadowside Farm resided in the far reaches of Turffield, bordering Stonjourner Wood on one side and hilly meadows on the other. It was quiet. Most dared not to have their farmland anywhere near the forest. Carnivorous Pokemon lived in those woods and they enjoyed stealing any stray Wooloo they found. It was silly to have your herds near a death trap. But he found solutions in nature, thus he and his flock lived peacefully despite the constant worrying from his family and neighbors.

Rotting was the only way to describe how he felt at the moment. Lifting the lock to the gate and pushing through and shutting it up again felt like hell. The walk to the front door - worse. Each step made him fall apart more. His flesh, bones, until only his weak, cowardly essence was left to continue the journey. Yet he made it to his home.

He breathed, sighed. He walked up the two steps of stairs, took two steps forward. And shoved his foot right into something  _ goopy. _

Milo looked down, screamed. A pie. A still-warm pie. A still-warm pie made by exactly who he thought it was.

He lifted his boot out of the mess, saw a paper amongst it. He pulled it out, frowned even more than he already was because it smelled like his favorite berries in the world. Most of the text was smudged beyond legibility save for a bit of the bottom which had two words written:

_Best, Layla_

Fuck, fuck, fuck, _ fuck.  _ Why was he such a fuck-up?

He pried the pan off of his boot and ran back into the town he so wanted to avoid with it in hand.

* * *

He didn’t even need to knock for Layla’s front door to open. Clementine stood there, the appendages on the back of his head twitching and jolting like a machine come to life. Milo was almost surprised that Cleo could even open the door considering he had paws for hands. He was thankful the Lucario opened the door though. He was holding the weight of the world and Layla’s pie tin in his hands. If he dropped it and it got even more dented than it already was thanks to his gargantuan foot stepping on it, he would be bereft.

Milo was about to speak but Cleo left him on the porch and headed up the stairs. He returned with his trainer. Despite the fact her hair was tied up in a kerchief and she was only wearing a shirt too big and too damaged for everyday wear, Layla looked like a sleepy fairy.

She rubbed her eyes as she asked, “Milo, is that you?”

He nodded. He wanted to speak but he had a frog in his throat.

“Goodness, it’s late. I thought you’d be in Wyndon for the night. Is the League that cheap with you guys that they won’t keep you in a hotel right after Finals?”

She giggled to herself. Then it was like she finally woke up. Her smile fell, her eyebrows furrowed. She gave him a good look and was not impressed by what she saw.

“Did something happen? You look beside yourself.”

And just like that, everything came flooding out. Milo didn’t mean to but he started bawling like a baby on her doorstep. He wanted to run home but his feet were stuck to the ground.

Layla’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. Frantically, she took the pan out of his hands, and put it on a side table by the door, took his hand gently, and slowly pulled him inside. She shut the door, locked it, turned to him, and frowned.

“Oh goodness. You’ve had quite the day, haven’t you?”

He nodded, desperately wiping the tears away to no avail. God, what an embarrassment he was.

“Oh, dear. Well, I’ve got just the cure for an eventful day.”

He let her guide him into her kitchen, still holding his hand. His heart fluttered despite how much he was crying. She sat him down in a chair by pressing down on his shoulders until he sat. Once he was seated, she grabbed the kettle on the stove, filled it up to the top, and put it back on the stove.

As she put a fire on under it, she asked, “Did you eat dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, that can put a damper on anyone’s mood. I’ll make some then.”

Milo didn’t have the energy to disagree. At that point, he stopped crying. Instead, invested in watching Layla cook. She took down a pot from a high cabinet (using a step stool), filled it up with water, and got it heating up quickly. She made a box of pasta appear out of nowhere. She went into her freezer and took out a frozen container of white sauce, threw the contents into a pot, and heated it as well. Then she took out vegetables, began chopping them up and threw them all into a bowl, and tossed them with a reddish-purple vinaigrette. Soon enough, she had finished preparing a scrumptious pasta dish and a salad. She set them all down on her dining table, put down two plates and bowls, matching utensils and all. She came over to his side.

“Okay, first, let’s get a hug in you. Unless you don’t like—“

He was up in seconds, pulling her gently into his arms and holding her. She wrapped her arms around his back, rubbed circles into his shoulder blades. He was already forgetting why he had gotten so upset but her little massage was making every little bad thing that ever happened to him go away. Ripping his pants open in front of the whole school in third grade - gone. His Wooloos stealing all of his underwear and parading around town with them - never happened. Doing his hardest to be a good Gym Leader only for his efforts to slap in the face - nonexistent.

“Can I rest my head on your shoulder?” he tried for.

“Mhm. We can stay like this for as long as you’d like. I won’t think it’s awkward.”

And Milo pressed his forehead against her neck in seconds. 

He was in bliss the way he was when he was a little kid experiencing the world. Crawling on the grass and touching every little thing he saw. Playing with his brothers. Greeting every Pokémon he met. His heart raced, his grin hurt his cheeks, everything felt wonderful in the world. When was the last time he felt so safe? Like nothing bad could get him and hurt him. He felt like Layla could protect him from anything so long as he was in her arms.

That may have been why he was so infatuated with her. He rarely felt safe around new people, especially not the level he felt with her then. Humanity would do anything for even an ounce of safety. He would cry his eyes out if it meant he could be held by Layla again.

“Don’t worry about the pie. I shouldn’t have left it where it was in the first place. And I’ll make you another one.”

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble. Let me make up for not wearing a Turffield shirt tonight.”

He snorted. “Alright. But let me get you a shirt in exchange then. We ran out of the full uniform in all the sizes this year.”

“Oh yeah. I heard there were a lot more challengers than usual this year.”

He nodded, burying his head further into her neck. Oh god, she smelled nice.

“Mhm. I promise I’ll get you a full uniform when they’re available again.”

“You don’t have to do that for lil ol’ me. Just keep on being the amazing Gym Leader you are.”

He sighed. “I don’t feel like one right now.”

“Oh, dear. I can’t have that. Let’s get some food and tea in you. Then let’s get to turning that frown upside down.”

“Okay. But can we keep hugging?”

She didn’t respond right away. But she sighed contentedly soon enough. “Aye aye, captain.”

He smiled, thanked her.

* * *

Dinner was so amazing that he didn’t regret coming right home. God, she was a cooking fairy. Plus she was even cuter while eating dinner. Grinning like mad over a 10-minute din. He’d have to find a way to have dinner with her again just so he could see her goofy reactions.

After rinsing the dishes and putting them in her dishwasher (Wowza! She might be the only person he knew in Turffield who owned one!), she turned to him and sighed.

“Okay. Now I think we should treat this eye.”

She exited the kitchen. Milo frowned hard. So, she noticed too. He regretted not going to the Chansey Kabu mentioned.

Clementine went to Milo’s side, his tail wagging low and slow. Oh. Was he worried about him?

“I’m alright, laddie. Just slipped is all.”

And Cleo swatted him with his tail. Milo yelped. It didn’t hurt but it surprised him.

“Cleo, be nice,” Layla warned.

She placed a big first-aid kit on the table, opened it.

“He’s in pain right now. He certainly doesn’t need your attitude on top of that.”

Cleo huffed, refused to leave Milo’s side.

“I know. If you want to help, stop being a turd and let him pet you already. You know you like him. You’re just being a jealous brat who hates it when I look at a man for even a second.”

And Cleo started howling like a big baby.

“Yes, you! I understand that Lucarios are territorial with their trainers but this is getting ridiculous. How am I supposed to get a man if you keep on acting so obnoxious?”

Cleo gave her a look.

“Excuse me! I have you know I’m attractive—“ And how in the world could she say that so unconfidently? “— and I have a line of guys who’d date me.”

And Milo must be at the back of the said line.

Cleo gave her another look.

“Oh you little— Look, not every person in the world is going to hurt me, you dweeb. I know I’m a softie but you don’t always have to be my guard dog.”

He leered. She scoffed.

“Fine. My knight.”

Cleo nodded.

“Still, you need to just suck it up and have some bro-time with Milo. You already like him so there’s no need for you to act like a brat to him anymore. Let him pet you.”

And Clementine gave up his charade and laid his head defeatedly in Milo’s lap.

Was it happening? Was it finally happening? Could he actually pet the cutest dog in town? He even asked to make sure. And Cleo whined as if he was telling Milo to step on it or else.

So Milo did. He put his hand on Cleo’s head, began giving him a hearty pat-down. And Cleo was wide-eyed for only a moment. Then he disintegrated into the man’s lap faster than a Goomy on a rainy day.

Yep. Every little bad thing that happened to him that day was worth it. Because he was petting Clementine. And Clementine was a very good boy.

“Oh, he’s precious,” he cooed.

“Sure is,” Layla agreed, “Now, let’s treat this eye.”

He didn’t want her to make a fuss over it and she didn’t. Instead, she quietly treated it. She put some leafy green concoction on some gauze, placed it on the eye, and covered it up in tape. It burned at first but quickly left a cooling sensation.

“Rinse this off when you get up in the morning. It should be healed by then.”

He nodded.

“Let’s also put an ice pack on your cheek. It’s bruising already. And disinfect the cuts on your arms.”

Milo didn’t even notice the cuts until she mentioned them. Little scratches danced up and down them. It must’ve been from that Stone Edge during the match. Proper messed up his vision for a bit. He either didn’t know he got the scratches then or he was so used to getting injured during battles that he just ignored the stinging.

She treated them with a featherlight touch. Dabbing them lightly with peroxide, rubbing some kind of powder on them then covering them with that green salve. Finally, plasters. They were Pikachu-themed. He would wear them with pride.

“And here, the ice pack.” She took one out from her freezer, covered it with a washcloth, and placed it gently on his cheek.

He smiled, placed his hand on it to keep it on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

And her voice trailed off as her expression shifted to deep concern.

“If… If you’re dealing with any form of abuse, please understand you don’t have to stay silent about it. There’s—“

All the blood drained from Milo’s face, neck, chest, and limbs and dropped into his boots. He paused his petting, making Clementine look up at him. He tried to smile it out, profusely denied any of it. It was true. His injuries tonight were from the battle and from that mean lady. Nothing more or less.

But he felt wrong denying it too.

“I see. But really. You don’t have to suffer in silence. You’re an incredible person with incredible talents. You can win anything if you put your mind to it. You can beat this too.” And she absentmindedly cupped his face with her hands.

God, Milo was melting. Her touch. How could anything feel so good? He would let some middle-aged broad smack the living daylights out of him again if Layla could treat him like this again. She was babying him and, though he’d never admit it, he abhorred being babied. But he really, really enjoyed being babied by her.

Could he convince her to hug him again?

“Thank you. Really. That— This means the world to me.”

“I’m just stating the obvious here.”

He snorted. “I see.”

He messed with his hands as silence filled the room. What could he do with them?

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I think I’m gonna start crying again.”

“Oh, dear. You need another hug?”

“Badly.”

She snorted, wrapped her arms around him again. He pressed his eyes into her neck. His back shook. His breath caught in his throat.

What was wrong with him? Abuse? No way.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling like shit so here's a comfort chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed it. It felt good writing this one ; u ; Our big boy deserves some huggies and a nice dinner. Also, look at that. Finally. Milo got to pet Clementine - a spiritual experience I don't think I conveyed correctly. It's just such an amazing experience. I pet a very friendly cat the other day when I had yet another shit day and my whole body pumped up full of dopamine in seconds. How?! Pets, man! They're the best!


	17. Poor Thing

Accuse, acute, amuse. Milo went down a list of words that rhyme with abuse every night instead of dreaming. On the rare nights he did dream, he had horrible nightmares of thorns pricking his flesh until he was cheese. For some reason, he precisely imagined the thorns going into each and every freckle on his body. Especially the face. He supposed they took their time messing his mug up. And he’d wake up and hate the fact that some of those words represented his mental state: confuse, refuse, a ruse.

He was confused about why he was getting so upset over that word Layla mentioned. He refused to believe he was a victim of such a thing. It was all just a ruse he was making up and exaggerating.

That morning, he hadn’t had the time to finish going down the list when his eyes cracked open. He thought Eldegoss was playing a prank on him, yet he had no tickling in his nose. When his vision cleared from sleep, he noticed she wasn’t even in the room. Not a Wooloo either. Just him and his trusty quilt. He remembered it was the beginning of his week off that day. Thus, he decided to go back to sleep. Even if it was just for five minutes, it was five minutes he earned.

Then he heard the strangest noise - knocking on the front door. At five in the morning. Who, what, and why was that happening? He thought he imagined it, so he shut his eyes tight.

Again, someone or something knocked - that time a little weaker than the first.

Milo could sleep through anything. He was proud of that. But he couldn’t sleep through anyone. If someone called for him, he’d be wide awake in seconds - which lead to several embarrassing instances of teachers rousing him awake when he was a boy. His mind and his sleep patterns got more complex once speech stopped being a factor. He could distinguish between natural noises and not. Was it the wind howling or a Manetric? Were they branches hitting the window or some twerps throwing sticks at it? It was odd beyond compare, but it was useful.

Not then though. Absolutely not.

Milo looked at his dented alarm clock. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Bloody hell, a  _ quarter _ to five! Not even five! It was before the crack of dawn and some infernal being was disturbing his sleep.

He struggled to get out of bed even though the knocks grew persistent. He grabbed the quilt and wrapped himself tightly in it for security and warmth - mostly warmth. He stumbled out his room and down the stairs, shivering and yawning while he did so. He opened the door, and Leon was at his doorstep.

Then it hit him. The World Pokémon League Champion - Leon the Unbeatable - was standing there, looking like a Shiinotic attack victim. Half-there, half-not-there, clutching onto his trusty backpack like it was the only thing still grounding him.

“‘Morning, chap,” is all the idiot got out before he face-planted into Milo’s breast.

Asleep. Leon fell asleep standing. A new accomplishment for Galar’s Hero.

Milo let out a deep sigh, called him a poor thing, and followed the routine. He lifted Leon into his arms, carried him up to the guest bedroom, and put his snoozing friend into bed. Making sure to take off his cap and leave it on the nightstand, take off his outrageous tennis shoes, brush and weave his hair into a loose queue, and tuck him in the way he did for any who asked, he’d leave Lee there until he finally woke up. Milo then headed back into his bed and went right back to sleep.

He stopped questioning why Leon did that. Instead, he prepared himself for a wasted week off.

* * *

Milo already informed the twins they needed to watch his herd for a few days - which they were more than delighted to for ulterior reasons - when he decided to eat some brekkie. He was a man with simple tastes, so he cut up some berries in the fridge and made some toast. When he went to pour a glass of Miltank milk, he paused, looked at the ceiling.

Leon wasn’t snoring anymore.

He put the bottle down, then headed upstairs. He slowly cracked the door open, took a deep breath. Then he used all the concentration he could muster to see if the Champ was breathing. Leon’s chest rose up and down. Milo sighed, ignoring the fact that Lee was also drooling all over his pillows. Leon’s phone buzzed. Milo pressed a finger to his lips at it. The Rotom inside floated over to Milo, greeted him quietly.

“The League’s run him proper dry, haven’t they?” Milo whispered.

The Rotom nodded with its whole body. He let out a soft sigh.

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll take care of him. Make sure you rest, alright?”

It smiled, rubbed itself next to Milo’s cheek. The electricity and rubbing motion tickled Milo, making him chuckle.

“Now, his Pokémon are where he usually keeps them, right?”

Another nod from the Rotom. Milo tiptoed over to where he dropped the backpack earlier, dug into the back of it in a hole Leon never cared to have fixed, and pulled out all six Pokeballs. He headed back into the kitchen, flung all the balls into the air, and released Leon’s team.

A Champion’s Pokémon exuded strength and prowess. A Grand Champion’s earned respect in seconds. But a World Champion’s was a whole new oyster. Milo wasn’t afraid of his team in the slightest. He knew just how well-trained they were. For example, Leon’s famed Charizard was a stubborn bastard when the dragon was a little Charmander. Now he was more majestic than a Braviary, beautiful even.

Said Charizard approached Milo with an almost regal walk. Milo offered his hand softly, always making sure to gauge if a Pokémon wanted affection first. Charizard was delighted to see him, bending over to get pats from the gym leader. And pat Milo did. Charizard nearly curled himself next to the sweet man his Trainer bothered on occasion, purring like a machine almost.

Milo cooed at him softly. “Hello, little one. How have you been? I hope you and the rest of your buddies don’t mind staying with my team and me for a couple of days.”

He let out a low noise, bumped his tail against Milo’s chest, making sure to keep the flame at the tip away from him. A sign of deep love from Charizard species; it may lead to Trainers accidentally catching fire if their tails’ tips hit clothing or hair. How Leon hasn’t died with his long locks and ridiculous fashion choices beat him. Regardless, Milo grinned like a goofball and gave him a hearty pat-down.

“Aw, I love you too,” he chuckled out.

Milo went on to give them and his own team their breakfast and proceeded to eat his own. He was a fan of people-watching, so he absentmindedly observed the Pokémon interacting. It was suitable for any Trainer to see how their team was getting along. Individual rivalries between Pokemon could lead to intense problems during training. Sometimes, deadly. Thus, he watched.

Bellossom and Cherrim were very picky about what they ate and refused to share with the others. Proper haughty - which wasn’t a good thing since they were living in a farming village and all - but there was nothing Milo could do about that. Shiftry was the sort who took his meals alone. It was usual behavior of a Shiftry, but Milo figured it could be something more than his nature. Ludicolo was the life of the party - always socializing, sharing his meals and treasures with anyone he met. Flapple used his pellets to do pranks on others. Appletun ate in peace with Eldegoss and Gossifleur at their own “lunch table” - right on the perch nearby the window in the kitchen. Milo called the three of them the Food Group, considering they have been doing this since forever. It was odd, yet there was a balance to it all. Plus, they were quiet for the most part while chowing down, so everything was right as rain in their Trainer’s eyes.

This balance led to some problems when others joined the mix. Leon’s Pokemon were mighty Pokémon, so they thought they could do whatever they liked and earn the right to do so. But Milo’s Pokemon weren’t even afraid of Leon’s Fire-type, much less any others. Big personality versus big muscle - a fight that never ended well.

Bellsossom and Cherrim were giving Mr. Rime an earful already. Haxorus was arguing with Ludicolo. Aegislash disappeared early on. Seismitoad tried to sit at the lunch table, but the Food Group fled immediately. Charizard. Charizard was stealing the food out of everyone’s bowls while they were all bickering with one another. Only Rhyperior was reasonable, giving Milo an apologetic look.

Milo was drowning in noise instantly. He needed to come up for air - immediately. He excused himself quietly and went out the backdoor.

He sat on the stair he liked to sit on and looked at the sky. Lucky for Leon. He just missed what was looking to be a bad storm. Perfect napping weather. Maybe he could catch up on  _ Westenders _ too. His mum liked that soap opera a lot. He could have something to talk about with her next Sunday dinner; if Leon wasn’t going to take over the conversation as he always did whenever he showed up in Turffield.

He wanted to get his phone. He’s taken plenty of photos of that exact spot at that exact angle, but he could never get enough of it. He also wanted to see if Layla texted him. Or even if the sender wasn’t her, he wished someone would text him.

As if Roary had telepathy, it floated down from his bedroom window into Milo’s lap.

“Wanna take a photo?” it asked.

He smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

Roary settled down into Milo’s hands. Ah, the camera app was already open. Bless its little heart for being so attentive. Milo focused the phone’s camera, waited for a moment, and took a few photos.

“It’s always pretty here,” Roary noted, “I really like livin' here wit ya.”

He smiled, patted it on its head once finished photographing. “I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only real homies tuck you into bed at night. Only real homies say night-night to you. Milo - the superior homie.
> 
> I've been wanting to write that scene for so long. Just Leon being so shitty with his health that he face-plants into Milo's tatter tots on first sight. Fam, me too, though... Being tucked in to... And, oh gosh, a kiss on the forehead?! Dead. Done. Bury me.
> 
> Also, did you guys see the SWSH announcements today? A release date for the DLC with the (fine as fuck) Peony and LEGENDARY RAIDS!!! Agh! So excited. And the tournaments where you can pair up with your fav Trainers? Me, a pure plebeian, battling with our farmer? I die. And the music video too! I drooled at how good the animation was. And I've bumped into (I'm sorry) Bump of Chicken's music too often so I was surprised to see them appear in a Pokemon-related video. The last video game I heard them in was for the opening of Tales of Vesperia. I'm glad they're doing great! (And I had a heart attack at that 2-second Milo appearance in the video LMAO)
> 
> I hope you're doing well. Americans, if you can, fucking vote or I'll come to your house and choke you out with one hand. IDK where you live but if it's on JSTOR, Imma find it.


	18. Clean Up

Eldegoss stayed close to Milo as she always did when guests were over at the house. The team considered her his second-in-command. After all, no battle would be complete without her Dynamaxing at the end. She was also quite strong-willed and fervent on doing things right, along with being one of the very first Pokémon he ever caught. Thus, when she noticed Milo had disappeared during breakfast, she made sure to nudge and coo at him as an apology for not corralling everyone. She always wanted to make sure Milo was okay. She knew of his sensitivity to anyone and anything that could be even remotely loud.

He was blessed to have her.

Someone knocked at the front door. Ah. Leon’s clean-up crew came early. Or maybe it was someone else. It was the afternoon by then, so it could be anyone; for example, one of the folks from All Creamy Farm, wanting Milo to taste-test a new ice cream flavor. And in an instant, Milo craved ice cream.

Milo opened it, sighed. Ah. The clean-up crew.

Raihan and his famous Duraludon stood on the porch, seemingly miffed about the circumstances. He was carrying a duffel bag on his shoulder and wearing sunglasses, a bucket hat, and a face mask. Raihan gave off this tense aura around most people. He was unpredictable, and he wore his potential to cause chaos on his sleeve. But the dragon in him had no fire that morning. It was hibernating deep within him, left him a shell of himself.

“Where’s the blockhead?” Raihan asked while plucking his sunglasses and mask off himself. He had dark circles under his eyes, and the whites of them were puffy and red.

“Snoring. I don’t expect him to wake up until tomorrow.”

He let the two in, Eldegoss hiding behind Milo’s head and peering from behind it shyly. Milo liked to think she has a bit of a crush on Duraludon, maybe even Raihan. She did that regularly when they were visiting.

Raihan took a glance around the place, sniffed the area, absorbed himself in the stimuli surrounding him. Then he glanced at Milo.

“Lee’s Pokémon started acting up already?” he asked.

“No.”

And Eldegoss headbutted her trainer’s nose. And he went into a sneezing fit instantly.

Raihan gave Eldegoss one of his easy-going smiles and confirmed, “So, they’re making proper asses of themselves, Ellie.”

And Eldegoss nodded with her whole body.

“Figured.” He took his hat off, revealing greasy, unkempt hair. “I’ll deal with them. Go get the goober a tissue already.”

And she giggled and floated away.

Milo somehow collected himself right on cue. He covered his nose, knowing it was a big snotty mess thanks to

Eldegoss’s mischief. No need to disgust Raihan today.

“Y’know, Lee’s team does that to you because you let them,” Raihan chided.

Milo sighed, looked towards the kitchen. The Pokémon were outside, playing with each other and the Wooloo herd. No roughhousing from what he saw. Just good ol’ fun. Maybe. Probably.

“I know,” he admitted, “I’m blessed my team’s all mild-mannered. I don’t think I could handle training any of Lee’s team.”

“It’s not fun, but it’s worth it in the end. Right, Dura?”

And Duraludon trilled, and Eldegoss was about to give her trainer his tissue, but she hid behind him again. Ah. The crush was on Duraludon.

“He was worse than Lee’s Charizard when I first caught him. Now, look at him.” And he gave the dragon a good pat.

“I can see.”

His Duraludon was one of the most well-trained Pokémon he’d ever seen. Raihan’s a master at temper management with Pokémon.

“I’ll chew them out for you. I know you’re bad at scolding.”

Milo cringed. Oh no. They were going to get punished because of him.

“Hey.” And Raihan pointed a finger at him. “You know it’s part of standard training. Leon’s good at EV Training, battle tactics, and plenty of other things, but he can sure do some work on their temperaments. Charizard and Rhyperior’s the only ones who’s got a good temper amongst any of the schmucks. All of a champion’s team should, not just two.”

“Right.” He had to agree.

Eldegoss gave him the tissue in her hands. He took it, thanked her sweetly, and wiped his nose. Once finished, he tossed the tissue in a wastebasket nearby. There were wastebaskets all over the house. Grass Pokémon liked to shed everywhere, and Milo didn’t particularly enjoy raking leaves inside his home. His Poké-friends would either deposit their shed foliage into the receptacles or have Cherrim blow her lid until they did so.

“Also… I’m going to have to work if I want to stay here, right?”

And Milo grimaced. Hard. “Y-You too?” he stuttered out, hoping he heard him wrong.

“Yeah. Uh, Gym season wiped me out, and my girl decided to break up with me during the dinner after Finals. I want some Wooloo cuddles.”

Milo softened up like butter then. Oh dear.

“Oh, poor thing. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

And Milo opened up his arms, and Raihan nearly bent all the way forward just to get a hug from the much shorter man. Raihan smiled, sighed. The dragon in him seemed to purr at the excellent news and touch.

“No homo but you give real good hugs.”

And Milo cracked up, let him go, and fell on the floor. Raihan chortled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my long absence! A lot of stuff happened - good and bad. I'm recovering slowly though. COVID-19 changed a lot of people's plans. In fact, it has sort of taught people to let go of rigidity and just go with the flow - which is hell for a rigid person like me. So yeah. I'm back. I'll be posting another chapter sometime this week. I've been writing a lot despite all the mess that's happening right now. I'm thankful I write as a hobby. I can write anywhere and all day and can have a completely content day.


	19. Morning Cuppa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, folks. I'm about to drop a trigger warning up here. This chapter will have discussions of child abuse and trauma. They are mild since, truthfully, I can't write that shit without having a real bad day. And I have to work retail during the holidays so I'm already having bad days LOL Still, this may upset some readers so it is my responsibility as a writer to pop this little warning up here. You can skip this chapter if you think it will upset you!

Raihan shoved his big feet into his rubber boots, letting out an older man's sigh into the morning air. Another day of laboring in the fields. But it was mindless work and he craved mindless anything. Thus, he kept himself busy and, despite never doing anything remotely agricultural before, earned Turfie farmers' favor.

"You did this every day during the off-season," Raihan mentioned for the millionth time then, still processing it all.

"Not every day," Milo said, nursing a cup of peppermint tea in the kitchen archway. "But most."

"How?"

"It's all muscle memory. You do it, and before you know it, you've done it and the day's over."

"Right." Raihan nodded too. You don't have to think when you're doing things from muscle memory. That sounded lovely right then.

"You still have time before you're supposed to go. I know you're sad right now, but people will beat you if you show up early to the field."

"Why? No one likes an early bird out here?"

"Not that. No one likes an overachiever."

He snorted, sighed.

"Alright. You got more water in that kettle?"

"Already got you covered." Milo strolled back into the kitchen, took the massive mug from the countertop, and headed back to the front of the house.

Raihan spotted the metal of the tea strainer poking out from the rim of the mug. "Oh, you're a miracle worker."

Milo headed out of the house with a sigh, plopping down on the stairs of his porch. Raihan took the cue and joined him. It was a tight squeeze - Rai's legs caused that problem often - but they made it work.

They both shivered, thanking all the goodness in the world they couldn't see their breaths. The wind chill made them think that they should be able to. Unseasonably cold, the weather report said, of course with a spot of rain just because it's Galar.

"You don't use umbrellas out on the fields, do ya?" Raihan wondered, his eyes glaring at the dark clouds.

"No. They'd get in the way. Raincoats and wellies do a better job."

"Ah. Well. I'm royally fucked, aren't I?"

Milo snickered. "You can borrow my coat at least. I'm not going anywhere today."

"That'll help. Thanks."

"No problem."

"And uh. Thanks again."

"For what?"

"For letting me stay here. I know I'm imposing on you - with my loud maw and all. So uh. Thanks for putting up with me."

"Hey, it's what friends are for. And besides, it's nice to see you out of the office."

Raihan snickered. "Yeah. It is." And his eyes creased in a way that worried Milo into thinking the man might break down crying. He dare not ask what was wrong.

Milo looked at the sky as silence settled between them with its cup of tea. He thought of the dark clouds covering his judgment. He heard those rhyming words. For some reason, he felt like Raihan could zip those imaginary lips for a moment. So he asked a profoundly personal question.

"Hey, uh. This is completely out of the blue and weird to ask so early in the morning and—"

"Just say it, bruv."

Milo gulped. Raihan's eyes landed on Milo's, cerulean slicing the world's gray and gloom like an edited photo. Truly, Raihan's eyes were breathtaking.

"Um. How did you know you had a rough childhood?"

Rai cocked a brow, of course. "Whatcha mean?"

"I. Uh. Don't know. Just uh."

How in the world could he ask a man how he realized there was something strange about getting beaten black and blue by his piece of shit father? But it was like a god whispered in Raihan's ear and everything clicked. So Raihan settled, forcing himself to look ahead. Else, he'd feel too much and Raihan spent years being told that he could only feel on the battlefield, shouting commands at his Pokemon, and nowhere else.

"Well. Obviously, no other kids at school had bruises all over their chests."

"R-Right."

"But for a while, I thought it was because they just healed faster than me. I thought I was so bloody weak as a kid. So that's not it."

Raihan gave his tea a sip, let out a deep noise from his throat like a mountain cracking its back.

"Ah. Right. It was when I would go to other kids' houses and see how their parents were - all nice and shit. It _freaked me out_ to no end. I was always thinking, 'are they proper 'cause I'm here or should I leave so they can get their daily shouting match out the way?' One of the kids I visited, a real shit-for-brains but his family was at least stable, had real strange parents. They _loved_ each other. So much so when the dad dropped his mother-in-law's ashes on the floor while moving it or something, the wife didn't threaten to kill him. She told him they'd regroup, sweep it up and put it in something temporary for now and buy another urn later. She forgave him. Forgiveness and just— _respect_ was so strange to me. Then add all of the holiday movies about perfect families that stick together and all that."

Milo nodded.

"I'll be honest. I'm still fucked up about the whole respecting boundary thing. Uh, I always say I don't catch feelings, but then I do and all of that jazz. I think that's why I lost Cami."

"Cami?"

"The ex. Uh, the most recent ex, I mean."

"Ah."

"She's heartless but I want heartless. Maybe. I don't know."

Milo didn't ask for this part of the conversation, but he was going to listen.

"We agreed on everything. No feelings - always. It was just supposed to be that. But then she asked me to wine and dine her for once and I thought it was— And she even told me to take her on real dates and I did and— Ack. Women are complicated."

"Men are too," Milo admitted, "We just act simple."

"Whatever you say," And Raihan scratched the back of his head like he was trying to get a patch of dandruff out. Gordie was the one cursed with eternal dandruff amongst them, not Rai. It was strange to see the dragon picking at his scales and goods.

"Hey. Maybe you should try something different," Milo gently suggested.

Raihan gave him a look. "What'd ya mean?"

"Maybe you should let yourself… catch feelings."

He looked at Milo like he was a jackass.

"You should feel how you want to and you should put yourself in a situation you can do that in. Maybe you're not this playboy the world makes you out to be. If you're craving something more–" And Milo took a moment to find the proper word. "–wholesome, I don't see anything wrong in giving in to your impulses."

"... Rose wouldn't want that."

Milo took a sip of the tea, grimaced. How quick could a simple mention of a flower make tea turn ice cold and bitter? Instantly if it was a rose. A blood-red rose with green as envy eyes and that paternal, saccharine smile.

"... I thought you were the one who gave Rose trouble all the time."

Raihan chuckled. "Damn right!"

"Then do it while you can."

And Raihan gulped, his Applin's Apple bobbing in his throat. "While I can… You have a point."

"Sometimes, I do."

Another chuckle. "Right. Now. Why are you asking me about my dad?"

"N-Not specifically your father, promise. Just. Um. I was just thinking about stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Um. Just. Our. Training and stuff."

"You gotta speak up, bruv. What are you going on about?"

"I just don't think what we went through - and going through now, to be honest - is normal. At all. So. I just— wanted to know if I'm being a sensitive, wimpy baby about it as I always am, or am I making some actual sense here."

Raihan laid his head onto the porch, looking up at the morning sky.

"Nah."

"Hm?"

"You're right. We're between a rock and a hard place right now. And folks will say it's our fault because we signed up for it. But how were we supposed to know what would happen? We were kids. So now all we're left to do is protect any kids we know and keep them out of the thorns."

A shiver ran down Milo's spine. Thorns. Rose. Roses have thorns. Chairman Rose has thorns.

"Right."

"So… yeah. It wasn't normal. Seriously, are you alright? All of these questions are strange coming out of you."

"... No. I'm not alright. It's–" Milo gathered his thoughts for a second then finished his opinion. "–just a curtain is being pulled up right in front of me. And I'm stuck here thinking how could I have been so blind all this time? It's been right there in front of me this whole time and I ignored it."

"You're not blind. Don't you have 20/20 vision? Lucky bastard by the way."

Milo found a way to scoff, looking at the tea in my mug. "Not for long. I've been using the computer more often. Photo-editing software is fun to play with."

"Ah. But yeah. You're not blind and you certainly didn't ignore it. You did what the rest of us have."

"And that is?"

"You thought it was normal so you pushed down whatever reservations you had and put up with it."

"That sounds like ignoring to me. And I always knew what was going on was wrong."

"Really?"

"Mhm. I'm just finally realizing what the word for it is. And it isn't pretty. And there's a bunch of strange words that rhyme with it. But they all lead back to that one original word."

Milo slammed his tea back like a beer. Raihan sighed.

"Well, now we're fucked," Raihan noted.

"How come?"

"Because you were supposed to stay naïve, dude."

Milo gave him a look.

"You didn't directly go through the things the others and I had to. Don't act like you did because you didn't. And we wanted that to stay that way. It gives up hope knowing at least one of us made it out unscathed."

Milo's heart burned. He so badly wanted to tell him, anyone, the truth. But even getting as far as he did that morning hurt. So he agreed, ignored the urge. Besides, Raihan had a point. They did go through so much worse than him. And that was that.

"And now that hope is gone."

"It's kind of strange you were putting all of your eggs in one basket, specifically mine. But I guess that'll be for another day."

"Nah, it can be today. We care about you."

Milo nearly spat out the rest of his tea. "Pardon?"

Raihan grinned, his snaggletooth he joking called his "dragon fang" making an appearance. "We do. You're just so nice and open to us. You let us talk our heads off at you at a drop of a dime. You let me and Lee come unannounced to your house and treat us like family. How is this a surprise to you?"

"I— I dunno. Just— I'm sure other people would do the same for you and Lee. C'mon, a Champion and his second-in-command. Anyone would help them out."

"No, they wouldn't - and especially not without any compensation. So, of course, we appreciate what you do. We might all be stubborn brats but we know when someone's genuine. I'm thankful we're friends, bruv."

Milo put his mug to his lips, acted like he was nursing it. A furious blush was burning him from forehead to neck down.

"N-No homo by the way."

" _Right._ "

"Don't say it like that. I mean it!"

" _Uh huh._ "

A steaming mug rested on top of Raihan's head. "Rai, two guys expressing platonic love for each other isn't gay. You've got to quit it or we'll start thinking you're not just into girls."

The mug was removed from his head before Raihan turned and snapped at him. "Lee! You scared the shit out of me."

Leon, hair still braided but body now covered in flannel jammies, stood behind the two Gym Leaders, acting as if he had been there the whole time. "I've been here the whole time," he dared to say.

"Don't lie. You've only been there for a few minutes," Milo noted.

"Hm? How'd you know?" And Leon cocked his head to the side.

"Charizard would have been rubbing all over you by now if you had been here for the entire time we've been sitting here."

Leon took a swig of his tea, swallowed then nodded. "Hm. Good point. Welp, you caught me on my lie. I've been here for about–" And Leon's Rotomphone floated out the doorway, gave him the time quietly. "–four minutes. Sorry for interrupting. I promise I didn't hear much."

"Uh huh," And Raihan leered at him.

"We can fight on Milo's property." Leon squished himself between the two of them, beaming like the sun. "Just letting you know."

"So what? We settle our arguments as normal people do?"

"Yes. Arceus almighty, don't break my house over nothing."

"We wouldn't break your house over nothing," Raihan reassured, "It'd be over something. There's a difference."

And Milo sipped his tea and cringed.

"Morning, by the way," Leon said.

"Oh shit, right. Morning," Raihan said.

"Good morning, you two," And Milo smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I want to buy so much Milo merch. Holy shit. One of my fav Milo artists is making plushies of the goober and I already know I'm dropping the cash the moment it comes out ; O ; My baby boi!!!!!!!  
> I hope the holidays are nice for you all! Thanksgiving is coming in the US and it's gonna be a strange time LMAO But hey, my mom and I are cooking so that means we will have unlimited leftovers for the next two weeks :D Stay safe and healthy!


	20. Eggs

Seven moons rose in the sky and hid behind the sun and Leon and Raihan were still in Milo’s house. He had only requested a week off. Thus Milo was back on the fields along with the two League icons. Considering harvest season was approaching, the farmers took all the help they could get. The duo did everything that was asked of them. Milo was thankful they didn’t cause any trouble.

Still, it was difficult for Milo to truly relax when they returned to his home. He found himself having to always be chipper in their presence, having to reassure that yes, he was okay with them being there and no, they were not bugging him. He wanted them to believe him. They weren’t bothering him - truly. He just enjoyed his quiet and they were anything but that. So his jaw and shoulders hurt and his mind craved solace.

Another sun rose when the three men were huddled around the stove, glaring holes into the cooking egg in the pan. Why they thought staring at it would force it to cook to perfection, they hadn’t a clue. But they burnt that one too and the egg carton was close to empty at that point.

“Okay, so we’re all shit cooks,” Raihan admitted.

Leon and Milo nodded.

“We gotta eat our mess though?”

“We can’t be wasteful,” Leon admonished, “Those are good eggs we’d be dumping.”

“Good eggs that burnt to hell. Really, they look like Charizard and Turtonator tried to cook.”

“We will eat our mistakes.”

“Fine. Milo, is there still marmite? That might help it.”

Milo opened the fridge, took out the jar, popped the lid open, and flipped it upside down. Emptier than empty. He tossed the jar into the sink, making Leon and Raihan groan.

“... I left my hot sauce at home,” Raihan grumbled.

“Hot sauce can’t fix this,” Leon said, “Also… where the hell do you find hot sauce in Galar?”

“I know a guy.”

Leon furrowed his brow. “Right. So. Uh. The only spice you have here is salt, right?”

“I can’t tell if that’s a go at me or not but yeah, only salt.”

Raihan laid his head against the cupboard door, slammed his forehead into it for good measure. “I’m not gonna shit for a week after this.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Lee joked, patting his tall friend on the back, “You’ll be besties with the porcelain throne after this. I think most of these are still raw.”

The three men looked at the pile of mistakes on the plate before them. Egg upon egg, burnt black as charcoal. How could they make them taste like something? Maybe they could gag it down? They just weren’t sure.

The doorbell rang, shutting them all up in an instant. They all looked at each other, then the clock in the room, then the window for some reason, then back at each other.

“Rai, what did you do that has Dave coming after you?” Leon asked.

“Shut your mouth. I’ve been working good. I think. He keeps on saying I’m mighty tall, whatever that means.”

“It means you’re mighty tall,” Milo clarified, “And I’m sure that’s not him at the door. He’s too old to chase after people now.”

“But he used to.”

“Oh yeah. All the time. And he’d beat my brothers into next year with whatever he had on hand. And when Dad found out, he’d thank him for his service.”

“It is what it is,” Leon said.

Raihan repeated the phrase with the same lack of enthusiasm.

The doorbell rang again. Milo decided then to answer the door. He almost wondered if it was the press. Strange but they liked to hound after the two other men in the house.

Milo opened the door and there was the prettiest woman on the planet, smiling from ear-to-ear as if she didn’t know she was giving him a goddamn heart attack. The morning sun shined dotingly upon her and Clementine, who was carrying a basket. He had a feeling Cleo was only holding it because he snatched the basket out of his Trainer’s hands and snapped at her whenever she tried to take it back.

“Hiya, Milo,” she greeted sweetly.

“Hiya, Layla,” he croaked.

She frowned, looked him up and down. “Is this a good time? I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He thought about all those cool guys in movies, impressing the ladies they fancied. So he leaned up against the door frame, crossed his arms, tried to look alluring.

“Anytime’s a good time.”

Oh. That sounded better in his head. _Way_ better in his head.

“Oh. Noted. You have a delivery. Specifically a pie delivery.”

And Clementine passed the basket to his Trainer. And Layla revealed the goods.

Oh, Arceus in the heavens; an actual pie delivery. Several. How many pies were in that damn basket?

“I made a replacement of the pie from last time. Then some meat pies. And also some Cheri pastries. I figured you could grab one and head out the door when you’re running late. They freeze well so you can just heat them back up whenever you’d like. And I kinda, sorta tried to make the holes in the crust look like Bellossom flowers. I don’t know why I did but I did.”

His heart fluttered in his chest. “Oh, you didn’t need to do this. You’ve already been kind enough as is.”

“You deserve some comfort when you’re having a bad time, even if it’s just pie. A lot of pies. Too many pies.”

And she frowned, looked at her handiwork.

“Uh. I had too much time on my hands. And a couple of amazing fans that kept me from getting heatstroke.”

He snorted. “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want my baking fairy to get sick fretting over me.”

And she noticed. And he noticed. And Milo felt two sets of eyes noticing from behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a snap.

“What for?”

“Uh. I. Dunno. You don’t find it weird I called you a baking fairy?” And he didn’t want to mention the possession along with it — _his_ baking fairy.

“No. Why would I?”

“I. Don’t know. Uh. Still.”

“It’s fine,” she reassured, “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

She shook her head, looking at something on the ground and playing with a bit of hair. “It’s cute. I love cute things. You can call me other names as long as they’re cute, alright? Nothing gross or mean.”

He blinked. Grasped the doorway like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Was she. Permitting _him_. To call her. Cute nicknames?

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, beaming timidly at him. Oh god, she might just be!

“Well. That’s. Good,” he tried to get out.

She nodded, hummed in agreement. She passed the basket to Milo and he accepted it happily. Oh god, it smelled like Winter Solstice dinner inside it. He was going to eat so much today.

“I’ll be taking this inside then.”

“Alright. Um. Also. I. Wanted to make you breakfast.” And she glanced at the tote bag on her shoulder.

“Uh. I don’t think that’d be—“

And Milo turned around and it was as if Leon and Raihan had never been there in the first place. Wiped off the face of the earth almost. Any evidence of them being there was removed - at least from sight.

And Milo turned back to her and said,” Um. Nevermind. I, uh, just feel guilty you’re doing this much for me.”

“My grandma demanded I do this so think of this as a gift from her more than me.”

“... Oh goodness, what did you tell your grandmother?”

“N-Nothing! She called me and said that if I don’t make you some grub, she’ll stop petting Cleo.”

Milo gasped. “My, she came at you with the hard stuff.”

“Mhm. So I gotta do this.”

“Well, if it means helping your little buddy get some pats, I’m all for it… And thank you for not telling your grandmother what happened.”

“That’s your story to tell when you tell it - if you ever want to anyway. For now, it’s our little secret.”

And she winked at him. And Milo nearly toppled over from how adorable it was.

“So, am I making brekkie or am I running home?”

“Brekkie. Or at least anything to get you out of the cold. Goodness, it’s freezing, innit?”

“Nah, it’s not that cold out. Just breezy.”

And Cleo elbowed her in the hip, making her hiss.

“Oh, you have no right to complain, you furry baby. Now, get in there and be nice to Milo and his Pokemon.”

Cleo looked at Milo, almost directly in the eye, nodded, and shoved his way inside. Layla was about to scold him but no noise came from her mouth. Milo let her inside with a simple move of his body and a smile. She thanked him and went on in. As she did, Milo gave the land and sky one last look-see.

No. They weren’t out there. Then where in the world did they go?


	21. Watch

Milo watched Layla with feline accuracy as she cooked. He was so absorbed in doing that he didn't notice his Pokémon doing the same. There was a saying that a Trainer's Pokémon look like them. He hoped he looked more like Eldegoss or Bellossom but his sisters said he was twins with Ludicolo. How dare? Regardless, a Trainer's Pokémon also acted like their trainer and his motley crew of grass lovers were all very observant and quiet when it came down to it. So they sat and stood there with their Trainer as they watched the pretty lady cook up a storm for him.

And storm she did cook up. Layla went all out, making a traditional Galarian breakfast, beans and all. Yet it smelled nothing like how the dish was meant to smell. Spices and herbs Milo would never imagine being in breakfast, much less any of Galar's cuisine, filled the kitchen's air. It wasn't unwanted though. Milo was salivating while waiting for her to finish up.

"... Are you doing alright?" Layla asked.

"Hm?"

"You looked a little tired this morning. I just– Hm. Maybe I'm overstepping here—"

"You're not. It's fine. And— I'm alright. I've been having a couple of late nights recently."

"Oh? Is it because of your guests?"

"Hm?"

Layla flipped an egg - perfectly fried - with Milo’s spatula.

"Everyone in town's been talking about them - Gym Leader Raihan and Champion Leon staying at your place since Monday. The ladies young and old are getting the vapors.”

She giggled, put another wonderful thing in the pan she was working on.

“Also, I saw them in the doorway earlier,” she admitted.

Milo choked on air. "Y-You did."

"Yes. They stood right over you like they're your bodyguards.” And she turned and posed like one then went back to her work. “It was adorable. They must care about you a lot to want to look out for you like that. I'm lucky they approved of little ol' me."

Who wouldn't accept help from a sweetheart like her? Milo couldn't help thinking that.

"Oh. Well. Yes. They're here. For a week. I think."

"I see. I'm already making some food for them. They looked just as tired as you are. Helping just one person wouldn't be nice, y'know."

"... Does Grandma have a crush on them too?"

And Layla nearly dropped the spatula as she moaned like a child. "Oh, Archie freaking be!"

Milo cracked up at her childishness. She pouted and went back to work.

"And no. Her heart belongs to you only," she informed him.

And Milo wished the "her" was a "my".

"They can't compete."

"I see. Why me though? Lee and Rai are much better than me in several aspects. I don't see the logic behind her affection for me."

"Well, you remind her of Grandpa. And no one can compare to the love of her life."

And Milo sat back in his seat. "Oh."

She hummed in agreement as she tossed tomatoes into the skillet. "Grandpa Pete was the most gentle soul on the planet apparently; loved any and all of Arceus's creations. He was a major plant dad and would take in every little Pokémon who ended up on their doorstep. And the water was so kind to him - always. Grandma jokes she married Kyogre's sweet cousin."

Milo smiled softly at her. "Was he a swimmer?"

"No, a surfer. Alolan through and through."

A puzzle piece clicked in place in Milo's mind. She must get her looks from her grandfather's side of the family - that was what he concluded. Still, more questions arose. Why did her parents in that family photo in her home not look even the slightest bit Alolan? Compared to the warm sun Alolans basked in, her immediate family seemed to be vampiric and craved moonlight. Like a proper Galarian but that was only because of the shite weather blocking the sun. Galarians weren't actually vampires. Still, for some reason, vampiric seemed to be a very good word to describe that family portrait he saw. It was like they were sucking the life out of Layla and Milo couldn't help thinking her grandmother didn't appreciate it.

Regardless, Milo realized he wasn't paying attention. So he blinked and came back to reality. Layla's family history was none of his beeswax anyway. He shouldn't be questioning it. He had no right.

"I wish I could remember him," Layla said with a sigh in her voice, "Grandma always speaks so sweetly of him. I feel so much guilt about it."

"How come you don't?"

Good. A question to seem like he was paying attention - which he should have been and felt beyond guilty about not doing.

"He died when I was only a few weeks old."

And Milo cringed. "Oh goodness. That's horrible. I'm so sorry for your loss."

And Layla looked at him funny. "Hey hey, he and my dad died when I was a baby. There's no need for any of that. I don't remember them at all so there's nothing to grieve about."

"That's not true. There's always something to miss when someone's gone. So. I'm sorry for your loss— losses."

And she smiled this sad little smile at him and Milo's heart ached. Oh goodness, why did he have to bring that up? He should have just listened to what she was saying rather than going off to La-La Land to think like a Nosey Nancy (the family term for nosey neighbor based on a real Turfie who can't mind her business even if it saved her life).

"If it makes you feel better, my grandfather also died before I was born," he told her.

She looked at him with a frown. "Oh. I'm sorry. From what?"

"Oh. Rage. He got so mad at my parents for getting married that he had an aneurysm and croaked."

Layla snorted so hard she started coughing. She had to walk away from the food so she didn't get her germs all over it. And when she finished, Milo had a glass of water in his hand all ready for her to drink.

"I— I don't think I should have asked." She thanked him quietly, took the glass and sipped a bit of the water.

"You would have found out eventually. Everyone in town knows and jokes about it with my dad."

"Yikes."

"Yep. That's just how it is out here. Nothing's a secret - for long anyway. And if there's a secret, that means you proper messed up."

Layla finished her water, thanked him again, and went back to work once she put the glass in the sink.

"What's a good town secret I should know? I wanna start my list of mysterious things I need to take to the grave."

"Oh, the usual 'this lady killed her husband' sort of thing."

"No serial killers? No cults or secret societies?"

"Nah. Not out here."

"Aw man. I was hoping to get run out of town for seeing some kind of blood sacrifice to an ancient god."

Milo laughed in a way he laughed only with family. This laugh - he considered it ugly but everyone else regarded it as boyish, handsome and absolutely adorable. He didn't know he made Layla feel shooting stars land in her chest and burn her heart into a satisfying crisp. He set her ablaze, made her ears buzz. He made her notice him in a way she hadn't at that point. Up until then, her kindness to him was unconditional. She was just being a good neighbor. But now, she wanted her selflessness to be conditional - so that she could get him to laugh like that again.

She wanted to be a little selfish.

"Our ancestors used to do that probably but not now, I promise," he eventually got out.

"H-Huh?"

"Hm?" And he cocked his head to the side a little.

"Oh, um. Sorry! I zoned out for a moment."

"No worries." And he looked her up and down, noticed the dark under-eye circles and the not so glowy skin. "You look tired too. Are you alright?"

"Yep. I kinda forgot to stop cooking last night is all."

He furrowed his brow. "... Layla, were you up all night baking?"

And she gulped and turned back to the food. Oh. So this is how she acted when she got caught red-handed - running away. Milo couldn't help thinking she was being a baby; a big, exhausted baby.

"I'm honored you'd do that for me. But please. When you get home, can you get some sleep?"

She nodded softly. He reached out and done something he hadn't meant to do but he was already doing it before he could stop himself. He patted her on her head. And Milo sighed for a moment because her hair was agonizingly soft and silky, but then he realized he was touching her without explicit permission, and he damn near shit himself.

"D-Don't worry yourself over me like that again. Your grandma knows how much I train for endurance. I can get through anything."

Layla turned off the fire under the skillet, spun on her heel towards him. Her cheeks and ears were a delicious grapefruit red. He wanted to eat her up for some reason. Why was affection associated with hunger? Or maybe the food in the pan was calling for him. Regardless, he almost drooled at how cute she looked.

"But you were so distraught the other day. I can't help but worry. And I promise I just had a lot of energy last night so I baked to get all those jitters out."

He frowned. "That's not making this any better."

She pouted, drooped like a shitty pudding. "I know."

He sighed, took her hand gently and softly ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Layla, you should be the one between us who takes good care of themselves. Please don't push yourself anymore. Aren't you supposed to be retired?"

She nodded softly.

"I got this. So don't worry."

And she mumbled out, "But I'll worry anyway."

And he was hit with Attract - super effective on top of that.

"Th-Then don't worry too much. I oughta be locked up for making you get dark circles under your eyes."

"Why?" She looked at him with curious, doe eyes.

Milo tripped over his words, tried to find an excuse. Layla, fortunately, giggled at one point, making him shut up.

"Okay. Then I'll try to worry a little less. Is that okay?"

He nodded, feeling his blush torch the tips of his ears.

"Okay. Anyway, breakfast's done. Why don't you call for—"

Leon and Raihan magically appeared at the dining table, sitting with their and Milo's Pokemon. Milo suddenly remembered he was holding Layla's hand and quickly but gently let her go. It was unnecessary in a sense. The two men were too busy gawking at Cleo. Leon was giving the cutie a rub-down and Raihan was cooing.

"He's _so_ cute," Leon exclaimed, chuckling as Cleo shut his eyes in bliss. "What's his name?"

"Clementine," Layla stammered out, "Cleo for short." She was gobsmacked beyond belief.

"Clementine," he repeated like it was gospel. "Well, you're a _very_ good boy, aren't you?"

Cleo's tail wagged even harder upon hearing that.

"I— I've never seen him allow a guy to pet him when he first meets them," she admitted, "He's hyper-vigilant of men."

And Milo suddenly felt better about his struggles to get Cleo to like him. The explanation was a good one, neutral too. He was a man and there was nothing that could be done about that. But his heart twitched with a bit of jealousy in its beat. Why did Clementine let go around a stranger, especially Leon of all people?

"Lucarios are attracted to certain kinds of personalities," he informed her. "Stubborn types who do things the right way or no way at all; ones who pursue justice and righteousness any way they can. It's in their DNA. I guess this means I'm a stubborn brat, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Raihan agreed, "And a dumb bloke 'cause of it."

Leon stuck his tongue out at him. Raihan rolled his eyes at him.

Breakfast was served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, howdy! A two-part update just for y'all! My apologies for my absence. Things have gone to shit over in my world so I kind of haven't been keeping up with uploading on here. My bad ; O ; Still, writing soothes me always so I have been writing!  
> Happy Holidays, folks. Stay safe!!!


	22. Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this week! Just wanted to drop a thanks for the 2.5k hits on here. It means a lot and I hope you guys are   
> enjoying this fic!

Milo was fourteen when he saw a head of purple mess in the Route 4 wheat fields. A perfect contrast to the sea of yellow and gold, it was hard for the preteen to miss.

The urge to stick his nose into something he possibly shouldn’t struck him like lightning. Very little was purple out there in the countryside’s yellows and greens. Just what in the world could be that color? A lost item, a missing Pokemon - it could be anything. And he just had to know. Thus, he adjusted the big sack on his shoulder and headed right over to it.

What he thought was a Pokémon was a sleeping person’s bird’s nest of hair. And when Milo went to get a good look at whoever it was, gold gleamed in the sunlight. The metal was poured into two eyes, shaped with might and mischief, and surrounded by the thickest eyelashes he ever saw. Those eyes were set in tan, bumpy skin, thick, determined brow, and somewhat crooked, ivory teeth. 

“Top of the morning to ya.”

And Milo’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Champion Leon.”

The newly-crowned Champion rose from the ground, smiling like he was finally back home. Strange, it was in the middle of a wheat field, but Milo hardly knew him. Maybe Postwick was one big field or meadow. Though, Leon would make a good wheat or sun sprite. Sunny and bright, swaying in the wind but still staying firm, rooted in the ground. Also very beautiful. Milo knew then that Lee, though three years younger, would be drop-dead handsome in the years to come. Regardless, it was beyond a shock to see him in Turffield, just casually laying about like he owned the place.

“Oh, right. I keep on forgettin’ about that,” Leon admitted, his Postwick accent thick. “And oh! Right. You’re gonna be a gym leader, aren’t ya? With that whole firin’ spree thing and then Steel Peony retirin’ and—“

The peachy wisps on the nape of his neck stood at attention. “Peony retired?”

Milo’s brothers had dirty magazines hidden under their beds. Milo had Pokemon battle magazines under his. And in all of them, Milo’s favorites graced the covers. Steel Peony, cheerfully pointing in the air. The Wizard Oz, posing with his beloved Grass-type team. He hid them because he admired the Pokemon-battling world leaders beyond more than an average fanboy did, bursting with excitement when his favorites won a battle. Milo broke so many Pokeballs in his attic bedroom, trying to throw  _ just one _ the powerful way Peony did. He would spin on his heel, try to look as graceful as Oz did. He wanted to be down there on the turf with them, their teammates duking it out. He wanted to feel that pumping blood, that nausea, that exhilaration just once.

And he did. And it was bloody fantastic.

And it was over.

The battle with Peony nearly ended Milo’s run in the Challenge. Brutal beyond compare, he had to challenge the powerhouse seven times before finally winning fair and square. Peony gave him a big hug after and, in a fatherly fashion, said he was  _ so _ proud of him. His kindness made Milo cry his eyes out on regional telly. Still, he learned quite a bit from their battles, and Milo honestly respected the hell out of him.

To hear such an incredible opponent was giving it all up, so suddenly too - it was too much for the little farmer.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not on the news. Yet. I think. I don’t keep up on top of that stuff right away. Is it on the news?”

“It’s gonna be announced next week. For now, there’s so much –” And Leon made a sweeping motion with his hand, trying to showcase how gargantuan whatever he was talking about was. “–  _ chaos _ right now. Everyone’s freaking out, like Seedots out of a tree. Mania! Panic!”

Milo wanted to shrug. He didn’t care too much about that sort of thing. He just cared about the fact that apparently, he wouldn’t be able to work with yet another role model of his.

Milo didn’t want to be nosey either, but he couldn’t help it either. “Why would he quit? This makes no sense… Is his family alright?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Peony just had a ‘conflict of interests’ with the Chairman.” And Leon made quotations with his fingers. Rehearsed beyond compare.

“About what?”

“You guys.”

And Milo furrowed a brow. “I’m confused.”

“Me too. But I heard the argument and it got personal quick. I don’t know what’s going on, but, uh, I thought I’d come by and see what all the hubbub was about. Turffield is nice; reminds me of home.”

“Um. Thanks?”

Leon snickered. “No prob, Bob. So, can I, uh, crash here for a couple of days?”

“Huh?”

“I… may have run from the League Headquarters after hearing that argument and, uh, flew all over Galar trying to find a place to hide. Raihan and Nessa are so mean. They slammed the door in my face. And Sonia looked depressed beyond depressed. And Spikemuth is scary and Circhester is bloody freezing. So. Here I am.”

Milo blinked once, twice. When he realized he wasn’t dreaming, he sighed.

“Uh. Well. Mum will throw a fit but she might be okay with it if you work on the fields. I’m super grounded right now but you’ll be—“

And Milo caught himself. It would be weird to admit that the new Champion would be Milo’s very first visitor.

“I’ll work my charm then,” Leon said. “And I’m pretty good with a Wooloo if I say so myself.”

“Okay. Then it’s settled. Come help me pass out money first.”

Leon cocked a brow. “Like Delibirds?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Just help. I’m not. Good with talking.”

“Okay!”

Leon ran right over to Milo’s side like he was always meant to be there. And Milo let Leon talk his head off as they trudged around town. And at one point, Leon looked at him funny.

“Hey, I think your Pokémon’s gonna wake you up in a sec.”

Milo furrowed his brows tight. “Huh?”

“Yeah. I betcha it’s gonna be your Ludicolo. He’s gonna go Ludi—“

And Milo woke up with Ludicolo singing right in earshot. When Ludicolo saw his trainer was up and at it, he shook his maracas and headed downstairs, cheering happily. Milo simply stared at the door to the room, left ajar by the big ball of energy.

“What was that?” Milo wondered to himself.

“I don’t know but you slept in for once.”

Milo looked over. Leon smiled at him from the doorway, carrying a mug in his hand. He set it down by the nightstand, chuckling. His gold eyes shimmered in the sunlight peeking from the windows.

“Usually, I’m the oversleeper. But here you are, taking my job from me. The pay’s crap anyway, so I’m thankful for it.”

“What day is it?”

Lee snorted. “Friday. Dale gave you off today. I already called him.”

Milo paled. Lee laughed.

“Wow there, busy bee. He was more than happy to let you off the hook. Now, go sleep. I demand it.”

With a wink, Leon left the room with a pep in his step. As he headed down the stairs, Milo leaned over to get a whiff of whatever was in the mug. He smiled a little and shut his eyes again. Peppermint tea sounded nice today.

Ludicolo came back upstairs, saw his trainer was asleep again. Instead of bugging him, he flopped right down next to him and shut his eyes.

No, Ludicolos didn’t make good cuddle buddies. But Milo didn’t care one bit.

* * *

Milo’s phone rang while he was finishing on the dishes. Ludicolo placed the last plate in the drainer then went to do his usual celebratory dance and jiggle. Milo found it cute of course. His overly cheerful nature made even the most mundane of tasks a party. Can be loud too; that was the nature of his species. Still, Ludicolo always found a way to make his Trainer smile and giggle and Milo did just that.

He asked his Rotom to answer the call. Roary floated over and did just that, put it on speaker.

“When was I supposed to meet Gym Leader Raihan?”

Milo sighed, smiled. “Hi, Mum.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Uh, well. I dunno.”

“Dunno doesn’t work with me. When is he leaving?”

“... Dunno.”

He sensed his mother would bang her head against a wall if she could then.

“Well, he - Leon too - better stay until tomorrow.”

“Mum, if you wanted to invite them to Sunday dinner, you could’ve just started with that. Or, I don’t know, a hello.”

“If you don’t bring them, I’m going to write you out of my will.”

“Duly noted. Anywho, I’ll see what their opinions are about this. I’ll talk to you th—“

“No, come around three or so. You haven’t shown Raihan around the lake, have you?”

Milo twirled his fingers around each other. His mind wandered to blonde hair and sapphire eyes. He hadn’t shown her around the lake either.

“Not yet. But I’ll come by then. Maybe around two.”

“Fine. See you then.”

“Right. Take—“

And the phone was hung up abruptly. Milo let out a deep sigh.

“Family, huh?” He said to no one in particular.

“I like being part of your family,” Roary said.

Ludicolo responded jovially. Milo gave both of them pats on their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo, they're gonna meet the parents. Next thing you know, this bromance is gonna take the next big step and get into holy brotimony.  
> It might be a little bit before I update again. Sort of planning out changes in the initial storyline and adding even more fluffy moments for y'all to enjoy. But when I am back, it will full of cuteness and maybe even sexy times??? See ya guys soon-ish.


End file.
